Processing Time
by qwertygal
Summary: I don't know how you begin to process this….but I do know it probably has to involve leaning on each other. Sharing this experience….well….I don't think I need to tell you the type of bonds that can form. They're you're family…..you can lean on them. They want you to lean on them. There's few else who could ever understand.
1. Prologue

_So here it is—finally—my sequel to Somebody I Used to Know. You don't have to have read the first one to understand this one—but I hope you do! Just know that Jessica is unexpectedly back in the land of the living because of something that was changed by Emma in 1814….nobody on Time Team knows what changed, and to be honest, it doesn't really matter. Wyatt just found out about the change, after running into Jess while at a bar with the gang on his birthday. The interesting part? In this timeline, Jessica and Wyatt have been divorced for three years, and have had little to no contact during this time. Jessica has a new relationship that is quite serious, and Wyatt and Lucy? As far as Jiya and the rest of MI are concerned, Wyatt and Lucy's relationship is pretty much exactly what we know it to be in "our" timeline, at the end of season 1/beginning of season 2. Possibilities, with a side of overt flirting….and there is an office pool!_

 _This story is pretty plot-thin compared to my other WIP. Wyatt POV again, so lots of rambling Wyatt thoughts. It's structured as a series of conversations….even when it's just Wyatt talking to himself—Conversations about fate and time and love and forgiveness….basically it's about friends desperately trying to help each other stay sane in crazy circumstances._

 _Rated "T" because of characters imbibing in alcohol and occasionally having potty-mouths….and if NBC is going to insist on putting it in the 10pm time-slot, it somehow seems appropriate._

 _I'm also not a big fan of the title….but couldn't come up with anything better._

 _As always, I own none of it….none at all! Hope you enjoy._

* * *

Prologue

Emma had jumped three times that next week, keeping him busy….offering some distraction. Thank goodness….because in-between those jumps….he was a mess.

Jess was alive….she was alive.

And they were divorced.

And what the hell was he supposed to do with _any_ of that information? Yes, the turn of timeline events had….sent him for a bit of a loop. Any time it entered his mind….which was pretty much any time he wasn't dodging bullets from Emma's goons….he would become overwhelmed by a sea of confusion and emotion. And he had no idea how to even begin to process any of it.

His team mates—his friends—they were trying to help….even though they thought he didn't know what they were doing…. But he wasn't oblivious. He recognized that Rufus and Lucy seemed to be taking him in shifts—bringing him dinner, taking him out for drinks, coming up with inane reasons why _they_ wanted his company on whatever errand they had to run.

He was thankful for their friendship….but, at the same time, they were driving him a little bit nutty. He was becoming frustrated, because he wasn't able to find any time to actually process his feelings—except at night. Which meant he wasn't sleeping. And then, damn, wouldn't Emma jump again? And, holy heck, how was anyone supposed to get their head straight this way? Would his head ever be straight again? It wasn't exactly straight before.

And so that was how, within the bounds of his 'new normal' that he'd found himself, at three in the morning, rifling through papers in his desk, trying to find hints to the life this timeline's version of him had lived. Car loans, television warrantees, a "thank you" card from Lucy, of all people, and so vaguely worded that he had no idea what it was about. And why had he saved it, shoved in with an old utility bill, anyway? Finally, he found it, paperwork that was from the divorce. Frustratingly, it revealed no helpful details at all, beyond the actual date—three years previously, just like Jess had said. And that was two years later than his most recent memories of her, in his timeline. In some crazed corner of his brain he realized he'd been expecting some kind of cosmic symmetry between their fates in the two timelines….in dates, in places, in…. _something_. Yet, there was nothing. Not that there was any reason for there to be….unless you were really a big believer in fate or kismet or something being written in the stars…. Which he wasn't. So why did that lack of equivalence surprise him?

Two-and-a-half hours later, with absolutely no sleep under his belt, he was driving to work. Not that he needed to be there that early….but Mason had a pretty good gym….and a really comfy couch at the back of the wardrobe dock that he'd managed to fall asleep on a couple of times since….well, since he ran into her.

His mind drifted back to that thought later, as he stood staring at his locker. That couch was actually calling to him, and he figured that was a good sign. Perhaps he would forgo the workout? Just try and get some sleep? He figured that sleep would be better for him than exercise right now, anyway. Okay, so change of plans. He closed the locker, and instead of walking toward the gym area, he turned and started down the south stairwell.

There were only a few techs around, night staff—no one he knew well, so he managed to get to the south wing of the building and enter the wardrobe dock without anyone trying to strike up a conversation and preventing him from getting to that couch. Just as well. He suspected he wouldn't be very good company right now. Lately he'd taken to long and strange late-night texting stints with Lucy….when they both should have been sleeping. Usually at some point in those exchanges, Lucy would find some way to tell him that he was a grumpy bear when he was over-tired. He couldn't even really remember how the texting routine had started, but Lucy claimed that their texted banter helped her sleep. He supposed that it helped him relax too….for a bit, until he hung up his phone, and everything else would come rushing back. But it was yet another part of their relationship that he felt unable to examine...right now, at least.

Finally, he reached his goal—Mason's magic couch. He pulled his shoes off and stretched out on the couch, pulling the thin throw blanket over him, closing his eyes, and willing himself to sleep.

Except his brain wasn't following orders….and sleep wasn't coming. Instead he kept replaying that moment in that damn bar, on his birthday, when he saw her….and everything changed. Jessica….she wasn't all that different than he remembered, not really….and she seemed happy to see him. What had happened between them….the them in this timeline? He suspected it was his fault….it must have been. But, would he have ever wanted a divorce? Did he drive her to it? How had he made her so miserable? He wanted to give this timeline him a piece of his mind….maybe a punch in the nose. How had he missed what was right in front of him?

This wasn't making falling asleep any easier.

He opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the rack of 1930s dresses in front of him….he thought he spied the pink one Lucy had worn on the Arkansas mission…. He sighed, closing his eyes again, and covering his face with his arm for good measure.

 _That_ wasn't helping, either.

 _What are you doing, Logan?_

He groaned, rolling over on the couch so that his back was to the offending clothing. What a good question that was. What _was_ he doing? It wasn't that long ago that he and Lucy had had…. _the_ conversation….or whatever you could call it, where he'd managed to be so confounding she probably didn't even know what he was talking about. Possibilities? What the hell did that even mean?

A voice in a dark corner of his brain whispered back— _it means everything_. And he knew that, for him….it did. He was ready to move on….to keep living….or to start living again, more appropriately….and he wanted to do that _with_ Lucy. And he _knew_ ….well, at least, he was pretty sure, that she maybe wanted that too….that she was at least interested in exploring said possibilities.

But then that business with her mother, and Emma….and he knew she needed a friend, more than a complication….so he had backed off. And yet, all the while, she kept seeming to move _toward_ him. He wasn't blind to the things she said with just her eyes….he wasn't unfeeling to the touches, to the hugs…. And so he would tentatively start to move toward her again….usually just in time for her to step back after a particularly rough mission….and the dance they were doing was maddening. And he had just started coming to terms with the fact that they needed to change the steps of that dance….and they needed to do it soon. And maybe, that night….on his birthday, he had thought that, _just maybe_ she was on the same page as him. There had been the touches….the standing closer than she needed to….and the fact that she hadn't clocked him, when he'd kissed her on the cheek. So he'd thought maybe….just maybe….things might go somewhere closer to those possibilities….finally….that night.

Until Jess had called his name. And then everything changed. Because she was alive. His _wife_ was alive….

And there was no way he was getting any sleep right now.

His phone chimed. Which meant Emma hadn't jumped….they _called_ when Emma jumped. But he still needed to check the message, it could be important. Blearily his eyes searched the screen. It was from Agent Christopher. Emma had most definitely _not_ jumped….but Christopher was calling the team in, anyway. Wanted to go over the information from the previous mission….cross-reference it with known historical fact….and try to get ahead of….everything.

Well….at least he was already in the right place. Wyatt glanced at his watch. They thought he was at home….which meant he could probably try for another half-hour of sleep before reporting in….maybe even an hour, if he blamed it on heavy traffic….

His phone chimed again. Lucy. Saying she was stopping for coffee on the way in, and did he want anything? He texted her back—'The biggest coffee you can find please, ma'am.'

She texted him back a winking emoji.

He stretched, blinking his eyes, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. Okay….so there was no way this sleep thing was happening. He pulled himself upright, rubbing his hand across his face. Fine….let them just think that he had broken a land speed record to get to MI so quickly. He hauled himself to his feet, and began walking down the wardrobe dock aisle….preparing for whatever lay ahead.

* * *

Not surprisingly, he was the first of the team to get to the conference room. He figured he'd been sitting there alone….up to his eyeballs in his thoughts again, for about twenty minutes before the door swung open admitting Jiya. Now this was a first—Jiya _always_ seemed to be the first team member to arrive….it was like she lived there, or something.

She nodded at him, "You got here fast….have you seen Rufus?"

He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face. "Nope….did you misplace your boyfriend?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "No….he was visiting with his Mom and Kevin last night—"

The door swung open at that instant, admitting her missing boyfriend. He grinned at Jiya as he entered, bending down to kiss her on the cheek, then dropping into the chair beside her, and swinging it around to face Wyatt.

"You're here early."

"Seriously guys….it's not like I'm always _late_ to work."

"No," agreed Rufus.

"But you're usually just a right-on-time kind of guy." Supplied Jiya.

"Why does Agent Christopher want us here so early anyway," grumbled Rufus, "I don't do well with history research before my first coffee."

"Is Lucy bringing you one?" Wyatt asked.

"Lucy? Why?"

"Cause….she was doing a coffee run?"

Rufus shook his head. "I didn't know that….why didn't I know that?"

Jiya sighed, "Because Lucy doesn't have a thing for _you_."

"A thing?" sputtered Wyatt.

"Jiya!" groaned Rufus. "Forgive my girlfriend….it's way too early in the morning to discuss—"

"Discuss what?"

The trio turned to see that Lucy had manoeuver the door open with her elbow, while balancing her purse, laptop bag, and two coffees….including one very large one….in her arms.

"Nothing," said Jiya quickly. "Just wondering what Emma is up to next."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at her. "Uh huh." She settled the coffees on the table top, and slid into the chair beside Wyatt. "I got you the largest one I could find, just like you ordered…." She trailed off as she turned to face him properly for the first time since entering the room. "Wyatt! You haven't slept!"

"What?" he asked, "I've slept!"

"Don't lie to me. I can tell you haven't….you have to sleep."

 _Bossy know-it-all…._ "S'not a lie….I've slept before….maybe just not last night."

"Last night, or the night before….or the night before that."

"Wait," began Rufus, "How do you know so much about Wyatt's sleeping habits?"

She rolled her eyes at him, and then turned her exacting gaze back on Wyatt. "You look _terrible_."

"Thanks, for that." He flashed a smirk her way.

"Wyatt, it's not funny. You need to get _some_ sleep."

He closed his eyes and counted to five….he really didn't need this this morning. He opened his eyes, seeking out hers, and said in a quieter voice, "I know….I'm trying."

He watched as her eyes softened. "I know….I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Okay," said Rufus, "Lucy's sorry, Wyatt's trying….so we're all good here, right? Can we just get back to the business of history-saving, now?"

Jiya pulled out her laptop, and started typing away, seeming as though she wanted to look _anywhere_ but at where Wyatt and Lucy sat across the table. After a moment, Rufus joined suit.

Lucy stretched the giant coffee toward him, like a peace offering. He accepted it, smiling slightly as he took his first sip. "Thank you."

She nodded. "You're welcome." She grabbed her own laptop, and got to work.

Wyatt was about to do the same, when he felt her staring at him, over top of her screen.

"What?"

She sighed. "It's just that….no, it's nothing...never mind."

It was his turn to sigh. "Well it's definitely something….so you might as well tell me."

He noted that Jiya's typing had stilled, and she was staring expectantly at them from behind her screen.

Lucy rubbed her neck. "It's just that….it's been a week since….and I don't know….if you're…." she trailed off.

Wyatt felt a slight bout of irritation creep into him at her words. _Was she really going to lecture him this morning?_ _When they'd already established how little sleep he was working on_? "Lucy….I don't want to talk about this, not right now."

She pushed her laptop away. "Well, maybe you should. If you would _talk_ about it….well then maybe you would be able to get some—"

"—Please don't say the word sleep again." He shoved his laptop—that he hadn't even managed to open yet—away from him, until it struck Lucy's laptop with a metallic clank.

He saw the sudden surprise in her eyes, and was immediately sorry for his tone. He shook his head, meeting her eyes again. "I….I'm sorry Lucy…..I didn't mean to…I'm just not having a good morning."

She nodded slowly. "I shouldn't have nagged at you…..I just…."

"It's okay," he began, suddenly becoming _very_ aware of the two sets of eyes peering at him from over their laptop screens. "What?" he asked.

"Nothin'" said Jiya, eyes quickly back on her screen.

"No," Rufus began, "It's not nothing. Lucy's right—you need to work through….this. It's going to make you sick if you don't. Or, at the very least, it's going to make you less safe."

He felt the heat rising in his face as his anger began climbing, "Less safe? What are you talking about?"

Jiya suddenly jumped to her feet. "You know what? I think I'll go find Agent Christopher….let her know we're all here."

Wyatt watched as she nearly sprinted out the door, letting it swing shut behind her.

He raised his eyebrow at Rufus, who shrugged.

"Okay," Wyatt began, pulling his laptop back toward him "So what are we researching—"

Rufus closed his laptop again. "No, you know what….we _should_ talk about this, before Agent Christopher gets here. I mean—look at yourself this morning, do you really think you're working on all cylinders right now? And you haven't been, for days. You can't keep this up. "

Wyatt pinched his nose, closing his eyes. "Look, I know you're just trying to help me….and I'm thankful, I am…."

"Not just help _you_ , buddy. We're a team, remember? Only as good as our weakest link. Not that you're a weak link….but seriously, you need to start dealing with this, so you can sleep….so you can be safe and ready for the mission—"

"What mission?" Wyatt cut in, "The Time Team field trip to the local library? Emma hasn't jumped today."

"But she will, sometime."

"And I'll be ready, then."

Rufus sighed, lowering his voice. "I don't doubt you mean to be…..but this whole thing…. I mean, I seriously can't imagine what you're going through….but to start with….well...aren't you happy about it?"

"Happy?" He pushed his chair back from the table and rose, beginning to pace along the outer window of the room, glancing down at the Lifeboat below him. "Of course I'm happy." He turned back to the table, recognizing that both Rufus and Lucy were staring at him. "She—she's alive. She's living her life….it's….unbelievable."

Lucy pushed her own chair back, stood, and moved to stand beside him. He stopped his pacing for a moment, and she put her hand on his arm. "But something is obviously making you feel….conflicted."

He jerked away from her touch, immediately feeling terrible for the flash of pain he saw in her eyes as he broke contact.

"Buddy," Rufus said, "You are wound so frickin' tight….this is what the whole problem is."

He laughed, mirthlessly. "And do you have a solution to that? Because, believe me….I am all ears!"

Rufus shook his head. "But isn't this supposed to be your whole _thing_ , talk through your feelings to get over the hump….you know….so there's no cracking up?"

"What? How do you….?" He glanced toward Lucy.

"I told him about our talk in Germany—because it really helped me….I was thankful….that was it."

He turned back to Rufus. "So now you wanna use it against me?"

Rufus stood, running his hand across the back of his head. "You can be impossible—you know that? I'm not using it _against_ you….I'm trying to help! Take your own advice—talk about how you're feeling."

"I'm not good at this, okay? I don't even _know_ how I'm feeling about anything right now….makes it pretty hard to talk about it!"

Rufus shook his head, "But surely you can….."

"Don't. Not now. It's not like…." He pressed his palms to his face for a moment. He couldn't explain it to them….couldn't put it into words.

He glanced up at Lucy, who was looking at him with nothing but caring….nothing but support….and maybe knowing _that_ he could try to figure this out.

"Look, for five years—five years!—all I've known is the sadness and the guilt….and I even tried to fix it…."

"We know that," Rufus said, "But now things _are_ fixed…."

He shook his head, "But it's not just that….I was ready to start letting it….the guilt….go. Ready to start moving forward, instead of standing still….and then this happens and it just yanks me back to where I was…."

His anger flared again, as he saw Rufus role his eyes.

"You're not right back where you were….and the thing is, I think you _know_ that. So what's going on?" he paused for a beat, then continued. "Lucy's right, it's like you're riddled with conflict, with doubt….but where is the doubt in this situation? How is anything about this a conflict? Explain it to me….to us."

He couldn't completely understand why every word Rufus said this morning was riling him….but that didn't change the fact that it was true. And he didn't want to argue. Except, without any sleep….he knew he was close to an edge. But he was _not_ going to lose his temper….not here, not in front of Lucy. But if he was going to stay in control this morning, he _really_ needed Rufus to Stop. Talking. Now.

He took in a breath, and decided to plunge ahead. "Just….stop, okay? This isn't easy for me. I know this seems clear to you guys….but it's not for me….and I just need….I don't know….but I know this isn't helping."

"We get it," said Rufus.

"No….you don't." he practically snarled at his friend, trying to keep the irrational anger and guilt at bay.

"Wyatt," Lucy began, "We understand it's not easy, and we're not trying to say that it should be….we're just worried….

He spun away from Rufus, back to face her, the heat rising quick and sharp within him. "Why would you be worried?"

"W-What?"

"Because this all just works out great for _you_ , doesn't it?"

 _Well….that had certainly shut them up._

As his words seemed to continue ringing in the air, several thoughts pushed through Wyatt's sleep deprived brain all at once: His anger was suddenly gone….and a wave of shame and guilt and remorse was rushing in to fill the void; Rufus was staring at him, his mouth wide open in surprise; Agent Christopher and Jiya—ah _crap_ , when had they gotten here?—were standing just at the door, both with a perplexed expression on their faces; and Lucy…..he couldn't even bare to look back in her direction.

 _What was wrong with him_? He shoved his hands in his jeans' pockets, and glued his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

He didn't get an immediate response. "Look, I'm just gonna…." He scooped up the laptop, moving toward the door, all the while doing his darnedest not to look at Lucy, "….I'm just gonna go sort through the latest changes to...to the algorithm using the data in the Lifeboat…."

He went out into the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind him. He paused for a moment, swiping his hand across his face, willing his hand to stop shaking, before realizing that—given the conference room was a ridiculous glass fish bowl—everyone was no doubt still staring at him. So, he forced himself to still, dropped his hand to his side, and squared his shoulders. He then kept walking, until he was able to start down the stairs. He stopped, when he knew he was beyond the sight lines of the curious group of onlookers, and leaned on the railing for support.

 _What_ had he just said to her?

He was officially an ass.

And now he had to find a way to process whatever was going on in his head with regard to Jess…. _and_ he had to apologise to Lucy….and find some way to make it up to her. He had to fix this _….but he didn't even know where to start._

 _How do I even begin to work through what this all means?_


	2. Agent Christopher

_So—going to continue this one the way I originally started writing it—before we knew anything about season 2. That means we are still set at Mason Industries. As well, I think if you look back at part 1….the team is chasing Emma, not Emma and Carol. I think back then I assumed Carol was far too important to Rittenhouse to go bopping around in time! So yeah….just pretend I posted *all* of this before we'd ever heard of the bunker or sleeper cells! Although I had a little fun in included a vague reference to it all anyway!_

* * *

2\. Agent Christopher

Wyatt climbed up the stairs, and walked with purpose down the hallway toward Christopher's office. He'd managed to keep his head in a laptop for nearly four hours, doing the required research, not seeing or speaking to anyone. He'd received a text from Lucy about an hour earlier—letting him know she was heading to the University library, and that she'd see him soon. The text left him feeling even worse than he had been—he didn't deserve that type of thoughtfulness, that type of _kindness_ from her today….not after what he had said. But he pushed away his self-loathing long enough to text back: *okay—stay safe* as he always did, whenever she informed him she was going somewhere that wasn't MI or her apartment….well, pretty much whenever she was going _anywhere_ that wasn't by his side. After Rittenhouse, and her mother….he needed to protect her….even though he knew she would scoff at the idea….and even though deep down he knew she was usually better at taking care of her than he was….but he needed to do _something_. And reminding her to be safe….wishing her safety by text….well, it wasn't much….but it _was_ something. He hadn't had contact with anyone else at Mason Industries since then. Well, not until mere minutes ago, when Agent Christopher had texted, asking to see him in her office.

He'd been summoned to speak to his CO or Agent in Charge on a million different occasions, and for a million different reasons—so the text should have been unremarkable. It _could_ be anything, he told himself—but he couldn't shake the feeling that what was _actually_ happening here was that he was being summoned to the principal's office. He paused at the door—the Agent's back was to him, as she was sorting through a filing cabinet. He ran a hand through his hair and straightened his collar. He waited another half-second, to compose his thoughts, and then rapped on the door.

She turned quickly, and motioned him in.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am."

She looked up at him from her desk, sighing. "Yes." She looked him over, seeming to be trying to come to a decision. Then, decision presumably made, she spoke again. "I'm not going to beat around the bush here, Logan. It seems there may have been some….tension, earlier, between you and the team. Normally….I'd let that sort of thing go—working so closely with two other people in constant high stress….I get where emotions can boil over. But Rufus mentioned to me, after you left…that this timeline is different than….well, than what you were expecting," she pursed her lips together briefly, "And I thought I should check in."

He nodded, slightly. Different, _that's one word for it_. Though, he suspected she wouldn't appreciate him using any of the _other_ , more accurate yet colourful adjectives currently running through his head, in the workplace.

"Can I ask what's changed?"

He looked at her, knowing his unvoiced question was written across his face.

"No," she said, "Rufus didn't tell me—he said you should."

Wyatt sighed. "It….I didn't figure it out right away….even though I probably-no, I definitely-should have. When the three of us were out, celebrating my birthday, after the 1814 mission….we ran into my….wife. My ex-wife," he corrected.

There was silence for a moment between the two of them, though he was mindful that she was still eyeing him. Finally, she spoke.

"In the timeline you're accustomed to….she's not your ex-wife?"

"No ma'am."

"So you were still married….in the other timeline?"

"No ma'am."

"What….you were never married at all?"

He sighed. "No ma'am. In our previous timeline….my wife was dead."

He could tell he had surprised her, even though she was clearly trying to cover her reaction. He continued forward, "Jessica….she was killed….murdered….five years ago."

Agent Christopher blew out a breath. "Well….that is a significant change. Any idea what might have—"

"—Changed? No," he scrubbed his hand across his face, "I have no idea."

"So….when you were out with the team, the other night, you….ran into your thought-to-be-dead wife?"

"Yes."

"Well….at least your little outburst is starting to make some sense."

"No ma'am….it was completely uncalled for."

"She gave him a thin smile. I'm not sure what running into your previously dead but now alive wife who is actually your ex-wife _does_ call for. I think you may be in uncharted territory here."

He remained silent.

"Look...I….I can't even imagine what it's like. Getting into that machine, not knowing what you're coming back to when you get back….whether it's Lucy's sister or your wife, or random fiancés….hell I even get why Rufus was freaked out that time he came back to a pet dog he didn't know. I don't know how you begin to process these things….but I do know it probably has to involve leaning on each other. Sharing this experience….the three of you….well, I don't think I need to tell you the type of bonds that can form. Rufus and Lucy, they're you're family…..you can lean on them. They….they want you to lean on them. There's few else who could ever understand…."

Yes ma'am.

She nodded curtly. "Okay. That's all I wanted to say. Well, that and ask you to maybe just try to keep the conference room sleep-deprived accusation-flinging to a minimum, Sergeant?"

He ducked his head, and knew his cheeks were colouring in shame. "Yes ma'am, it won't happen again. I'm sorry for—"

She waved away his apology. "You know what? It's none of my business. But perhaps you should consider apologising to your team?" she pulled two files from a nearby folder, and slid them into her briefcase. As she moved to buckle it closed, she turned a curious eye back on him.

She hadn't dismissed him yet….and he wasn't really sure what to do, at this point.

"You can go," she began, then started again before he'd had a chance to respond. "Wait."

"Ma'am?"

"I know you'll think this is none of my business….but it is my business to know my team….and this whole conversation seems to point to another question I should ask you."

He felt his fingernails cut into his palm as he tensed his hands into fists, but he kept his face neutral. "Whatever you feel is important to ask, ma'am."

She nodded, "So….in your original timeline—when your wife had passed away—you and Lucy?"

"What?"

"I mean….your relationship, in your previous timeline."

"Just friends, ma'am," he responded, quickly.

She nodded, though he didn't miss the tiny flash of surprise on her face, the one she had carefully schooled away.

Even though he suspected he might regret it, he couldn't just let that go. "What was our relationship in _this_ timeline?" he asked, cautiously.

She stared at him, seemingly appraising him for a moment, then shrugged. "The same, I suppose. Friends...using a broad definition."

"What broad definition is that?"

She smiled then, "I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's the same broad definition you and Lucy have for 'friends' in every timeline."

 _Was she smirking at him?_

"That's all, Master Sergeant. You can go."

He was about to leave, then paused. Agent Christopher was the Agent in Charge. And that meant that Agent Christopher would have full access to the files-professional and personal-of one Master Sergeant Logan from _this_ timeline. "Agent Christopher….in the spirit of needing to lean on your team….and you _are_ a member of this team…."

She nodded, thoughtfully. "Is there anything I can do, to be of assistance Sergeant?"

He was about to shake his head no, regretting he'd even started this….this wasn't exactly something you asked an Agent in Charge. But then, he had already started down this road….he might as well keep going….it's not like turning back would do anyone any good now. And, after all what was the worst she could do to him? Consider him insubordinate? Lock him up in a pit and seal the door? "Agent Christopher," he began again, "What can you tell me about my divorce? I mean….is there anything in my file, anything I ever mentioned…."

"You mean, regarding the actual circumstances of the divorce? The 'why' of it all?"

He released his breath and stood more at ease when he realized she didn't seem concerned by this line of questioning—that she actually seemed….understanding—like she wanted to help. She was looking at him, curiously. He nodded.

She sighed. "I'm afraid I don't know much….it wasn't something you ever talked about….frankly, I didn't even remember her name, until you just mentioned it. It was old news, by the time you came to work here." She moved to a cabinet on the other side of the room, and started thumbing through files in the bottom drawer, until she apparently found the one she was looking for. She pulled out a hefty file, and, walked back toward him.

"You're welcome to go through it," she handed the file to him, and he reached out, accepting it. She nodded, as he looked at the label, noting his name. "Though….I'd appreciate it if it didn't leave this office."

He nodded in return, already opening the large file.

"I'll give you some privacy," she gathered her briefcase and laptop, preparing to head for the door. "There's somewhat fresh coffee in the machine on the counter."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She turned back, nodding her acknowledgement.

He eyed the file a moment longer, then raised his eyes back to her, holding it up and indicating its size. "I'm surprised that Mason didn't commandeer this as one of his paperweights….it's a little more reading than I might have expected."

She smiled gently then, "Well, paperwork does have to be filled out and filed in quadruplicate each time you get hurt on a mission….so if you would just quit doing that—it'd be a whole lot easier on all of us….and the file would stop growing exponentially."

Was it his imagination, or had she just winked at him?

She put her hand on his shoulder with another soft smile, than turned to leave the room. She paused as she opened the door, looking back at him briefly, "I hope you find your answers, Wyatt."


	3. Jiya

3\. Jiya

He woke up with a start. _Where was he?_ Realization quickly chased away the cobwebs. _Right. Agent Christopher's office._ He raised his head from where it had been resting on a thick file. He glanced down at it. _Good job Logan, you drooled on your personnel file_. He checked his phone. Almost six o'clock. He must have been out for hours. He glanced down at the file again, before closing it, and shoving it away from him on the desk. There'd been nothing of great significance….just the divorce date, which he already knew…. And the fact that it was Jess who filed. _Shit_. What kind of asshole had he been to her? To make her want a divorce? He pushed the desk chair back, stood, and started pacing. What else had he been expecting? It's not like he was an easy person to _be_ with—with his work and his temper…. His mind turned back to what Rufus had said earlier—How do you feel about this? _How did he feel_? He supposed he was ashamed of himself. And he was regretful—that this other him, in this timeline….had screwed things up so royally that he couldn't have Jess back…. He started pacing again. But mostly he was angry at himself….and feeling guilty. Guilty because, when he was completely honest with himself….that wasn't everything. Because there was another feeling mixed in there too….one that he didn't even want to think about because of what it said about _him_ …. He paused in his pacing, looking back at Agent Christopher's desk. And this really wasn't the place for this.

He pushed all thoughts of _what he felt about this_ to the side, and left the office, closing the door behind him, ensuring it was locked. Mason Industries was surprisingly quiet—peering down at the Lifeboat hangar he saw only a few techs, their heads buried in their laptops. No sign of Rufus….or Lucy. He sighed. He should go home….to try to sleep again. Or at least get that missed work-out in. Decision made, he started walking toward the locker room—the gym would be quiet this time of day….and besides, a good workout should help him sleep some more tonight. He was about to start down the stairs to the locker room when he stopped—looking down the hallway toward the kitchen—the lunchroom. If Lucy was still here….she might be in there, tidying the fridge….like she always seemed to do before leaving MI for the day.

He turned away from the staircase, and jogged toward the kitchen. Opening the door, he saw….no one. He was about to shut the door again when he heard a voice from around the corner where the lounge was.

"Looking for Lucy?"

It was Jiya. "What? No….I was just…. Did everybody go already?"

"I'm still here."

He smiled, slightly embarrassed, as she rounded the corner to join him in the kitchen. "Right, sorry."

She grinned, "S'okay—I'm messing with you."

"Do you know if Lucy went home? I know she was at the University earlier….did she come back?"

She shook her head. "No, I texted her an hour ago, see if she wanted to grab dinner since Rufus has this thing with his brother, but she was already home….said she'd take a rain check."

"Is she….okay?"

Jiya raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

He sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Is she pissed at me?"

Jiya chuckled. "I wish—'cause I think she should be, you know….just a little." She shrugged, "But I think we all know that's not likely to happen."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head at him. "After you left the conference room she was defending you, you know—to me an' Rufus. Said we needed to cut you some slack because of….everything that's going on."

He huffed, staring at the ground and rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. "She shouldn't have done that….I was an ass."

She nodded, a little _too_ eagerly for his liking. "You really were."

He laughed. "Well….now that that's settled. Have a good night, Jiya."

Just as he turned back to the door, her voice floated toward him softer, more sincere. "Just because she's not pissed doesn't mean she shouldn't get an apology."

He turned toward her, glancing at the floor again. "I know," he lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. "I will."

Jiya smiled. "Well….now that that's settled…."

He grinned.

"Oh, and I should probably warn you that Rufus has announced that since, after today's performance, it seems clear that you _are_ aware of just what you two feel for each other….he's no longer going to hold back with the teasing and the tormenting."

"What?" he asked. _What was she talking about_?

She sighed. "Now that you have _publicly_ made it clear that you're aware of how you feel about Lucy….and how she feels about you…."

He shook his head, waving away the comment. "Nah—it's not like that. Luce an' me are friends….no different than me an' Rufus."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay….you just keep telling yourself that, Wyatt version two-point-eight."

"Huh?"

"Version 2.8."

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Sue me," she shrugged, "It's how I keep myself entertained."

 _What the hell….?_ He looked at her, knowing the question was on his face.

She leaned against the counter, giving a dramatic sigh, then winked at him. "Each time you come back from a mission, you're a slightly different version of Wyatt….usually the changes are teensy-weensy….like, almost totally imperceptible, but sometimes….they're bigger. Anyway, you've been on twenty-eight missions….so you're Wyatt version 2.8. At first I was going by full numbers—you know, like version 1, version 2, and what not….but once we got past twelve missions or so….it just seemed cooler, adding the decimal." She stared at him, an overly serious expression on her face….until she laughed.

And he joined in. He shook his head at her, the laughter subsiding to chuckles, and then to a wide grin. Then he raised an eyebrow at her, and shook his head. "Nope….I don't know if I'm buying that. From where _I_ sit….I've always been the same Wyatt— _I_ haven't changed. You're the one that's changed—you're Jiya version 2.8."

She smiled. "Well, I guess it really is all relative….depends on your point of view."

"Point of view?" he said, a question in his voice. "You'll find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view."

She chuckled, "Thanks Obi-Wan—you know what, you're just as bad as Rufus."

He watched as she paused, and her face became more serious.

"Guess that's why you two make such a good pair—in any timeline—right?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He glanced down at the floor, then back at Jiya. Jiya….who was of _this_ timeline….and who was still his friend…. _Would she know anything?_ Not that he and Jiya ever seemed to talk about this kind of stuff…. _But what the hell_?

"So," he asked, shuffling his feet. "This version of us, we….talk like this, a lot?"

"Nah—hardly ever, really…." she shrugged, "Well….that's not really fair. 'Cause lately, we talked quite a bit more than before."

He nodded. _Well, he'd come this far….might as well totally embarrass himself_. "So….did we ever talk about my ex-wife? I mean….about how I felt about any of that…..or about how that affected things, between me and the team?"

"You mean between you and Lucy?"

He stared at her, not saying anything.

She sighed. "No….I can't say that we ever talked about your feelings toward your ex-wife, and how that affected your relationship with _the team_."

"Right. Makes sense. Sorry."

She shrugged.

"I'm just trying to figure this out—without pissing everybody off….even though I've already managed that. I gotta figure out why I'm feeling like….well, I gotta figure out what I'm feeling about all of this." _And why the hell was he talking so much? What was wrong with him?_ But it was like he couldn't help himself, and he just kept talking…. "I mean….I obviously screwed up my marriage….and now Lucy's pissed at me, and you and your boyfriend seem to think I don't know my own mind….which is probably true. I don't know. Maybe I'm just a completely incompetent human being."

A slow grin spread across her face.

"What?"

She chuckled, "It's just—wow. Déjà vu! You know, me and Wyatt 2.7? We _just_ had this conversation, a few days before your birthday….in this very same room.

He scrunched his brow. "Because that version of me didn't know he was divorced, either?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him in return. "No—why do you think? Because you and Lucy had just had this teeny tiny argument….and then you had said something monumentally stupid….and you were asking me for advice on how to smooth it over with her—you wanted my opinion. You asked me if I thought you were a complete incompetent, when it came to interacting with your co-workers.

"What was it I said to her?"

"Sorry….I think the other version of you would prefer I didn't say."

"So, what, you're more loyal to him than to me?"

"Wow….I don't even know how to answer that question!"

He chuckled. "Yeah….guess that wasn't overly fair."

"Tell you what," she said, straightening from where she was leaning on the counter and closing the distance between them to pat his elbow. "You and me, we'll make a deal. If you're ever dumb enough to say the same thing to Lucy _again_ ….I'll let you know. Besides," she leaned in conspiratorially, "And this is a little secret, just between you and me—to _prove_ that I'm not more loyal to your other….version. While you were freaking out about what you said to her….Lucy told me in private that she actually thought it was kind of funny, and endearing. So, no big deal, right? But, at the time, you 2.7 seemed so pathetic….well, I just figured I'd let you keep on thinking you owed her….because I'm sure you did, somehow."

He laughed. "Does Rufus know just how dangerous it could be to underestimate you, Jiya?"

She smiled, slyly. "Oh, don't you worry, he does. I make sure every single version of Rufus knows that!"

"Right," he said. "Rufus 2.8."

"Nope—he's actually 2.9, since he went to Paris without you, that one time. I don't count that whole Houston thing.

 _Well….that raised a whole host of new questions_. "So, the way you see it then, your boyfriend is _also_ a new person, every time he comes back from a mission?"

She grinned, and shrugged with mock innocence. "Hey, I roll with it."

He was about to give a smart-assed reply when she turned from him and swung open the fridge, grabbing a drink from the top shelf.

"Do you want anything?"

He shook his head, and she shut the fridge again, popping open the can in her hand, and taking a sip. Then she looked at him again, closely.

"You know," she began, "From what I've heard from Rufus, you've had more to deal with on this jump than any other version of you guys." She took another sip, "Well, maybe except the jump where Lucy lost her sister, but I didn't know her _before_ then, so I can't compare, ya know?"

He nodded.

"But, even with everything being so different for you….you should know that you don't seem all that different to me."

He raised his eyebrow at her again.

She shrugged, "Well, I guess I can see where you'd be sadder, with you remembering what happened to your wife in your timeline….and maybe you are. But from where I sit—you're still _you_ —the way you see things, the way you react to things, I don't see a difference."

He stared at her, _where was she going with this_?

"So, I guess I'm saying that….maybe you don't need to be so confused about what you're feeling…..or about who you are. Your wife coming back doesn't have to change all that….not the stuff that makes you _you_. Because that stuff? It doesn't change. And, yes, I understand _why_ you're feeling confused right now….and I can't imagine what it would be like…. But I _do_ know, that if you think too hard about this stuff—you'll go crazy. And your friends don't want that…. _I_ don't want that. And Lucy certainly doesn't. I bet that's the only reason that this morning….happened. You're wound way too tight, like Rufus said….and maybe you're not always seeing things right, because of that? I mean really seeing things….like what's in front of you."

He shrugged.

She glanced at the floor, then back at him. "And—okay. So that was just way more touchy-feely than I meant that to be….but don't lose sight of what's important….okay? And try not to hurt your friends along the way….they're just trying to help."

"And what if it's too late for that?"

She shook her head. "Well, even if it's too late not to hurt her….I'm pretty sure you could do a pretty good fix job with an apology. Like I said—she gets the place where you were coming from this morning….she gets you."

He glanced beyond her, at the fridge, then brought his eyes back to her. "Thank you."

She nodded. "And, you know what? I did offer you advice in that other conversation—the one I had with the previous version of you, you know? And that advice? It still seems appropriate, even in this situation."

"Okay," he smiled softly, "Why don't you tell me that advice then."

A sly smirk spread across her face. "Well….I could. But, so you know, I don't think Wyatt 2.7 appreciated the advice very much."

"How do you know?

"Well, you got this weird look on your face—somewhere between embarrassed and super-annoyed—and then you stormed out of the room."

"What the hell did you tell me?"

"You really want to hear?"

He nodded slightly

"I told you to drag your sorry ass back to Lucy, apologise, and then get yourself laid."

There was a beat of silence as his brain caught up with what she had just said—

"And look! There's that same expression on your face!" she crowed. "But, this time, I think I'm going to leave." She was chuckling, as she brushed by him, and exited the kitchen. Just before the door swung closed behind her, she twisted her head back around to him and said, "Talk to ya later, Wyatt!"


	4. Electric Lucy

The skies outside his front windowed had darkened, but he hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights. He shoved the last bits of his pad thai in his mouth, then begrudgingly stood up and walked to the kitchen to throw out the take-out container. He could cook a pretty decent meal when he wanted to, but these days he figured eating anything was a step in the right direction. The workout had been a good plan too—he'd spent the better part of ninety minutes thinking about absolutely nothing. But since then….

He sighed, absently staring at the cupboard where he kept the liquor. He knew himself well enough to make sure that he hadn't touched the stuff since the night he saw her…. _there be monsters_ , his mind provided. But after a cursory sweep of the kitchen revealed every other non-tap-water beverage in his apartment contained caffeine….he returned to face down the liquor cupboard. _What the hell_? Besides, even though he recognized that his thoughts were still swirling wildly and he was still in need of another solid eight hours of sleep….he also recognized that he was in a better state of mind—since the cat nap and the workout. One glass wouldn't be an issue. Besides, maybe it would take the edge off enough to give him a chance at getting some of that sleep. And maybe it would also provide just a dash of liquid courage for what he knew he needed to do before trying to get that sleep.

Glass in hand, he moved back toward the couch. Then, changing his mind, he grabbed his cell phone and took both items into the bedroom. He settled onto his bed, staring at the cell phone. This shouldn't be a big deal. They late-night texted each other….a lot. She said it helped her sleep. She'd be worried if he didn't text. Actually, he was surprised she hadn't texted _him_ already….but then….he wouldn't text him either—not after what he'd said.

He took a sip of his drink. _What had he been thinking_? Of course, that was the problem….he hadn't been thinking. Rufus was just harping on his last nerve and…. _crap_. He was a man of action to begin with—and time in the Special Forces had only instilled more deeply the belief that sitting still seldom helped change a bad situation. _Time to rip the band-aid off_. He set the glass down on the bedside table, and started.

[ hi ]

He waited a moment….staring at the screen….just hoping... And suddenly there they were, the three little dots.

[ Hi! ]

Thank goodness. But, there was a pattern—a rhythm—to their late-night texts….and for some reason, it seemed imperative that he follow those expectations, before just diving in to his apology. So he started the way they _always_ started….with a question.

[ are you asleep? ]

Almost immediately, three dots again.

[ That's funny—especially coming from the guy who doesn't sleep ]

[ hey—I did sleep today ]

[ ? ]

[ Agent Christopher's office, face down on her desk ]

[ Comfy ]

He paused, trying to figure out how to say it—where to even start. Then there were three dots again.

[ Still there? ]

 _Pull off the damn band-aid, Logan_.

[ yeah ]  
[ I'm sorry….for what I said. ]

The three dots were there almost immediately, as though she'd been anticipating that statement.

[ Well, wasn't the best part of my day, but I'll live ]

Okay. She was still talking to him—or texting to him….so that was a good sign. He pushed on.

[ I didn't mean it ]

[ You sure about that? ]

 _Crap_. What was he supposed to say to that? Especially when he wasn't sure of _anything_ these days. But she must have decided to take pity on him—because there went those three dots again.

[ Then why did you say it? ]

Trust Lucy to ask that question too. He took a sip of his drink. This was Lucy—he should be honest with her—tell her the truth. But there were multiple truths in this situation, weren't there? And the _truth_ behind his specific choice of words to hurl at her…. He took another sip of his drink, cutting off his own chain of thoughts. He knew that was a truth that was slowly starting to form in his gut—but he also knew that was not a truth he was willing or able to delve into right now….certainly not in late-night text format. He would figure that out eventually….but right now? Now was the time for the simple truths. So, why did he lash out at her? He started tapping out a response:

[ Rufus made me mad ]

There was no response from her for a moment. He knew it was the stupidest explanation ever….and that it kinda made him sound like a seven-year-old...but it was as close to the truth as he was able to face right now. He stared at the phone. There was still nothing. Had he just pissed her off again? Or….was she laughing at him?

Then the dots came

[ Well….you sure showed him ]

Okay, so she was laughing at him….but she was probably also pissed off.

[ I know….it was colossally stupid, taking it out on you ]

[ Smartest thing you've said all day ]

And that was the problem with texts. He couldn't see her reactions….he couldn't sense anything about what she was really feeling. And he didn't even know where else to go with this conversation right now.

[ can we talk more about this later—in person? ]

[ It's okay, we don't have to. I accept your apology ]

[ but maybe I still want to talk about it ]

[ Maybe you have too much of a thing for self-condemnation? ]

[ probably ]

There was another pause….and then dots.

[ Okay ]  
[ But I don't just want you to apologize all over again….will you be able to tell me more about what's bothering you? You know-get over the hump? ]

 _Damn_. He'd walked right into that one. Would he be able to tell her what was bothering him? That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? But he trusted her implicitly—which was such a strange thought—it wasn't something he'd done often in his life—and until recently something he thought he would never do again. And he _wanted_ to tell her everything, properly, in person—once he figured out what that meant. But that was also just about the scariest thing his mind could contemplate right now. Which was saying something—since he spent quite a bit of time these days contemplating things like accidentally causing a catastrophic timeline alteration; or what exactly would happen to the Lifeboat occupants, should they accidentally land on their great-great-grandmothers. _Damn again_. She was still waiting for an answer, wasn't she. She wasn't going to rescue him this time. He closed his eyes, tracing the edge of the phone, imagining what her reaction might be…. He sighed. Fine—she always said he was reckless, if this was what she wanted….

[ deal ]

[ Good. Now change the subject—or this texting thing isn't going to help me get to sleep ]

[ that's really the only reason you have these conversations, isn't it? ]

[ You're even better than a white noise machine, Wyatt ]

He laughed out loud at that.

[ how was Stanford? ]

[ Useless ]

[ thank you for texting earlier—letting me know where you were going ]

[ I always do, don't I? ]  
[ I know you worry….ever since Carol ]

He grimaced—bringing up that topic probably wasn't going to help her sleep, either.

[ I appreciate it—especially when I wasn't very nice to you ]

[ Well….I've said before, you can be a grumpy bear ]

[ you know that is the most ridiculous description…. ]

[ I know ]

[ Do you know why I call you that? ]

[ because you know it bugs me? ]

[ Well….maybe. But there is another more important reason ]

[ afraid to ask ]

[ It's from a book my Dad used to read to Amy and me ]

[ really? ]

He hadn't expected that response.

[ Yeah. Dad always called me a grumpy bear ]

[ can't imagine you being grumpy ]

[ You didn't know me when I was thirteen ]

He chuckled. Henry must have had his work cut out for him.

[ maybe I don't mind so much - when you call me a grumpy bear ]

She sent him a smiley-faced emoji. He felt himself grin, and he tapped out his next message.

[ what do you think—can you sleep now? ]

[ Can you? ]

[ maybe ]

[ Try ]

[ I promise ]

[ Good ]

[ I'll see you tomorrow, baby-doll ]

[ Actually, no ]

That wasn't the way it was supposed to go-that wasn't her line. But instead of saying that, he just tapped out:

[ oh ]

There were dots again.

[ Get over yourself, Logan ]  
[ Not because I'm mad at you, because I'm supposed to give a guest lecture tomorrow ]  
[ So, unless Emma has other ideas... ]

[ Good luck tomorrow then ]

And he added, as an afterthought

[ I could come listen ]

[ You could. ]  
[ But I have more than enough undergrads sleeping in their seats ]

[ I doubt that ]

[You know you can be a charmer when you want to be, right? ]

[ what's the topic? ]

[ You're going to love this: ]  
[ The plot to assassinate Abraham Lincoln ]

[ joking? ]

[ Wish I was ]

[ on second thought….I might pass ]

[ Don't blame you ]

There was another pause. He glanced at the clock. It was late. He was about to say just that, when he saw her dots again.

[ Okay, it's late. Get some sleep ]

[ You too ]

[ 'Night, Wyatt ]

[ night Luce ]

He felt the isolation the minute she was gone. Which was ridiculous—since she hadn't been physically present to begin with. He collapsed back on the bed. And why would that feeling bother him tonight anyway? He should be used to it—especially in bed. He slammed his palm across his eyes. Ever since Jess was….gone. Not dead now—but gone. And that was no doubt his fault at some level. And holy hell was it any wonder he couldn't sleep? It was as though all thought roads lead back to her. _Not true_ , a voice in the back of his head whispered. _You weren't thinking about her when you were on the phone_.

Crap. He sat up again. Okay—so he needed to handle this like he did any other obstacle in his life. One problem at a time.

Problem number one: His dead wife had divorced him. He slid to the edge of the bed and opened the bedside table drawer—looking for her picture. It was where he kept it-for nights when he was feeling particularly miserable. But it wasn't there. _Of course it wasn't there_. Divorced men didn't usually keep pictures in their bedside table, did they? Although he didn't actually know the answer to that question. Since he was rather new to being divorced. And yet….knowing him….he suspected he kept her picture _somewhere_ in the apartment. He briefly considered a mission to go find it—but what good would that do him? It certainly wouldn't help him in the sleep department.

He leaned back against the headboard. She said she was in a serious relationship. He supposed he could still try to talk to her—convince her he was a changed man. But then what? Leave the Time Team to join her where her work was? He couldn't do that….not now. Besides….he was pretty sure she'd see right through the 'changed man' lie. He was, after all, still a reckless hothead. And that thought made him smile-even when it shouldn't have. He stared up at the ceiling. And what if Jess had been returned to him….and they were still married? Then what? Would that Wyatt even have been named to the Time Team? And what would that mean?

His phone glowed blue where it sat on the comforter—and he dove for it. But it was an email alert….just junk mail from the local grocery store. Phone still in hand, he finished the drink, and climbed under the covers. He stretched out—mindlessly scrolling back through his conversation with Lucy. He smiled, re-reading the Grumpy Bear comment, and he registered a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the covers or the alcohol. She seldom spoke of her childhood….and even less so since learning about….Carol. But she had chosen to tell him about her Dad. Even after what he'd said to her today.

He set the phone down on the bedside table. And there was another thing that would have to be different if he was still married to Jess. Probably would have had to tone down on the late-night texting.

He was reformulating the operationalization of his obstacle.

Problem number one: His dead wife had divorced him….and he maybe wasn't _completely_ devastated about it.


	5. Rufus

5\. Rufus

Wyatt walked into Mason Industries, trotting down the stairs to the landing dock, looking for anyone he knew. He had seriously considered it—considered going to the University to listen to her lecture—but what would that have _meant_? And wouldn't that have made things worse? It had hit him like a punch in the gut the night before, fully realizing there were positives in the 'being divorced from Jessica' thing. But in addition to punching him in the gut, those thoughts had had a field day square dancing in his brain for the next few hours—causing him nothing but confusion—until finally, he supposed he must have fallen asleep….because the next thing he remembered was the sound of his alarm. And he didn't know where that left him. Except confused again. And he didn't like being confused. And he knew that, at some level, a great deal of his current confusion seemed to be springing from one specific brunette historian.

"Hey—did you sleep last night?"

The voice came from the general direction of the Lifeboat, but he couldn't find the speaker—until Rufus popped his head out the door of the ship.

"Hey. Yeah actually, a little bit."

"Good—so it's safe for me to engage you in conversation this morning?"

He rolled his eyes at his friend, and crossed the docking area, to stand beside the Lifeboat-just below Rufus' perched position in the doorway. "What are you working on in there?"

"Ah," Rufus glanced back at the dash lights, "Tryin' to better balance the quantum temporal differential against the gravitational time dilation. If I can balance the equation—bypass the Pauli exclusion coefficient and re-calculate the vector quantity….we might be able to avoid some of the adiabatic heating issues….you know, keep the rectilineal propagation of the geodesic…." He trailed off, no doubt noticing the look on Wyatt's face.

"You know the poem Jabberwocky?" asked Wyatt.

Rufus squinted at him, "I remember something about it…."

Wyatt nodded at him. "What you just said? It's kinda like that, for me."

Rufus laughed, "All Greek to you, eh?"

"Nope. I think I'd do better with Greek, actually."

His friend grinned at him. "Knowing you-you probably would. Do you want to come up here and help me anyway? I promise, no sciency-wiency stuff….just need some help calibrating the dials."

"So all I have to do is turn some dials?"

Rufus nodded. "And flip some switches."

He shrugged, "Guess I can probably manage that." He made his way up the staircase, and stepped inside the Lifeboat.

"Cozy," he said, shoving himself down into Lucy's seat, as his own was covered with a stack of papers.

"You know it," said Rufus, turning back to his controls. "Did you get a chance to work through some...things...last night too?"

Wyatt stared at him for beat, then looked sideways as though the switch panel was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.

"You know I probably would have fallen over if you'd actually answered that question."

Wyatt remained silent, just giving a half-nod.

"Hey," Rufus turned two large dials in front of his nose, then glanced down at something on his laptop's display. "Where's Lucy today?"

"Givin' a lecture."

"A lecture?" Rufus nodded toward the main switch panel, "Flip the first two red ones over there, and I'll see what that gives us."

Wyatt nodded quickly, and flipped the switches.

"What's she talking about—anything good?"

"Lincoln's assassination."

"You joking?"

"No—and that's exactly what I asked her, when she told me."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did she tell you that?" asked Rufus.

"Last night."

"Uh-huh," Rufus typed something madly into his keyboard. "Now try the next two switches—the white ones"

"Want the first two flipped down?"

Rufus shook his head, and Wyatt flipped the white ones on.

"So, when you were talking to Lucy….last night….did you get around to apologizing to her for being an ass."

Wyatt looked across the Lifeboat at him. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

"Oh hoh—you _made_ it my business my friend, when you shouted what you shouted _while_ I was in the room."

"Can we please not talk about this anymore?"

Rufus shrugged. "Turn the first two off."

Wyatt complied, then turned to face his friend again, "And besides—it was your fault, you know."

"What?"

"You were….frustrating me….I was mad at _you_."

"So you shouted at Lucy?"

"Yeah, I know….not my finest hour."

"What did Lucy think?"

"I think she thought I was an idiot."

"Well," Rufus leaned across the cabin to switch a toggle switch to Wyatt's right, "Obviously."

Wyatt shot him a glare.

"Green one next."

"Got it," and the switch was flipped. "But," Wyatt began, "When I apologised….she says she's okay. I told her I wanted to talk some more….but then she told me this story, about her Dad…." He glanced up, and realized that Rufus was staring at him.

"And….this was all last night? Um….Wyatt….when you were getting some sleep last night….whose bed was that in?" Rufus raised his eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes at him, "We were just texting."

"You apologized over text? Think you could probably do better than that."

"I know—I will….but—"

"But what?"

"I was thinking some more about this whole thing with Jessica."

"Shocker."

He glared at him. Rufus held his stare for a beat, and then turned back to the laptop screen.

"Okay, now switch the green one up. Then, we start in with the dials—turn that black dial over there half-way 'round."

Wyatt did as he was told. They were both silent for a moment, as Rufus stared at the readout on the screen, and started typing again.

Wyatt sighed. "I don't know—I think maybe I just need to concentrate on how I'm feeling about Jessica being alive right now….to figure out how I feel….what I want."

Rufus nodded. "Sounds good." He hit the return key with a flourish.

"I think maybe spending time with Lucy right now….just complicates things...that I should probably avoid it."

Rufus let out a long sigh…..and then slammed his laptop shut. "Okay Logan….you have any idea how big of a pain in the ass you can be? And you know what….I probably don't even want to know what's going on in that head of yours….but I _do_ know that the sooner you start talking about all of this, the sooner we can _stop_ talking about it." Rufus pulled himself forward, to look out the Lifeboat porthole. No one was close. "So—in the spirit of that sentiment...I need you to back up a little. Spill it….from the beginning. And, while we're at it…..pretend I'm stupid while you try to explain it to me."

"Explain what?"

"Everything."

"Rufus…." his voice was nearly a growl.

"Fine….let's just start with the basics. Jessica is alive. This is a good thing, right?"

He nodded.

"So why aren't you floating around here happy as all get out? I mean—all that….stuff-that stuff you've been carrying around inside you, it's gone now, right?"

Wyatt sighed, and pushed his hand through his hair. "You really want to know?" But…. _crap_ ….. _Wyatt wanted to know too_. And was he really going to talk to someone else about something he hadn't even fully formed in his own brain yet?

"No," Rufus' response broke his chain of thought. "But like I said….pretty sure the only way I'm going to get you to _stop_ talking about this stuff-which you need to understand, is most definitely my goal here-is to get you to _start_ talking about this stuff."

Wyatt shook his head slowly. "Fine." He glanced out the porthole again, to make sure they were alone, then leaned back in Lucy's chair, swiveling to face Rufus. "For six years….I've defined most of my life by what happened that night. How she died….and the fact that it was my fault…."

Rufus grimaced, "First of all—even though you've only told me a little bit about that night….I can assure you, it wasn't your fault. And secondly….and I can't emphasize enough how important this is….Jessica isn't dead, not anymore. So any guilt, however misplaced, that you've been harbouring for all these years-man….it seems like it's a clean slate now."

Wyatt sighed, "Do you want _me_ to talk, or do you want to talk?"

Rufus held up his hands, "Sorry."

Wyatt was silent for another moment, then straightened, looking back at Rufus. "That's the thing of it. Yes, she's alive, but for me….that night _still happened_. You…." he weighed how much he was willing to reveal-how much he was willing to say, "You don't know what I was like….that night. I….I was jealous, and stupid, and angry…. And who even knows what happened in this timeline….but even if she didn't get out of the car that night and end up dead….I still remember what happened….what I caused. I still know that I'm…. _capable_ of…." he trailed off. He turned in the seat, picking up a notebook from his chair, needing to look anywhere other than at Rufus. And did he ever wish this metal ball was big enough for pacing in right now. His mind was whirling, trying to sort itself out….because what did it even mean….that she was _alive_ …..but he still did what he did all those years ago…. The things he had said to her….that way he had made her feel….it echoed through his brain, taunting him. He closed his eyes, willing the worst of the thoughts away, trying to collect himself enough to finish that sentence. He could feel Rufus' eyes on his back. Opening his eyes, he threw the document back on the pile, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned back toward his friend.

"I still know that I am capable of making something like that _happen_ , that I can be responsible for….something like that. That—because of my temper, my hard-headedness—I can't protect the people that I love….worse than that….that I _hurt_ them. And, when I was trying to deal with that….before….when Jess died…." He sighed, running his hand along the Lifeboat seat. "You know I don't buy this _meant to be_ crap….but, at the time, the only one thing about the whole fucking experience that made any sense to me—the only _reason_ for it all….was that I should take it as a warning. As a warning about who I really am, what I'm capable of….so I could live my life accordingly—so that no one else got hurt. And maybe that sounds insane—but I had to….find some kind of purpose in it….so that I wouldn't forget….so that I wouldn't dishonour her memory. So….I did two things—tried to bring her justice….and I treated the rest of it….as a warning. And I couldn't let myself lose sight of that….and I still can't, even if she is alive again.

Rufus shrugged slightly, glancing at the floor. Then he raised his head again, holding Wyatt's gaze with his. "Did you ever think that maybe that's your issue here? What if it was never supposed to be a warning **?** Maybe….it was just a horrible thing that happened, out of your control….but that you were supposed to _learn_ from it. And….I'm pretty sure, maybe in spite of yourself, you _have_ learned from it."

What?

That was six years ago, Wyatt...not to mention it was a majorly traumatic experience for you. Can you really sit here and tell me you're _exactly_ the same person you were back then? Before that happened? Do you honestly think you'd react the same way in a similar situation now—do you really think you've had no personal growth over the last six years?

Wyatt shrugged, staring at the floor of the Lifeboat.

"You talk about what you're capable of….but you know what the Wyatt Logan _I_ know is capable of?"

Wyatt ran his hand across the back of his neck. "Wanna get back to that dial spinning and switch flipping?"

"No," Rufus shook his head. "Because it is obvious to me that you need to hear this. The Wyatt Logan _I_ know, he is capable of inspiring others to see only the best in themselves; he's capable of great trust in his teammates—even though he's been burned before; he's capable of leadership through consensus-building, even with a couple of civilians; he's capable of perseverance, in the face of like _insane_ odds, and he's capable of duty—to sacrifice his own needs and desires for the greater good."

Wyatt kept his gaze glued on the metal flooring sheet.

"And, while we're at it, there's also the fact that you're capable of problem-solving your team's way out of a prison with only my wits and Lucy's bra….and don't even get me started on all that seriously impressive Delta Force crap you do when you're fighting to protect your team….the stuff that makes Lucy an' me feel safe….even in the midst of total bat-shit crazy chaos. But most importantly, for me anyway, is the fact that you're capable of turning a desk-bound super-nerd into a hero who is ready to save the world.

He'd continued in staring at the floor, listening—but that got his attention. He lifted his gaze to meet Rufus'. "A hero?"

"Yeah."

He laughed. "Maybe I over did the inspiration to see the best in yourself bit."

"What?"

He shook his head, waving away his previous comment. "Kidding. 'Cause buddy, you are a hero."

"Okay then. Well, now that that is settled….believe me, I _know_ I'm going to regret this question….but what about Lucy?

He sighed, "What about Lucy?"

"What was that crap you were spewing about how spending time with Lucy complicates things?"

Wyatt sighed, shifting in the seat. _Would it be rude to just bolt from the Lifeboat and not speak to Rufus again?_ He sat another moment, staring at the blinking lights on the navigation panel.

"Any time now, Logan."

He sighed. "While I'm figuring this all out….I decided last night that I can't let myself get….side-tracked by her….not right now."

"Side-tracked? Is that what you call it?"

He narrowed his eyes and shot Rufus a look that he hoped was strong enough to shut him up. "I mean….I can't think about Lucy….not right now."

"Why not?"

He frowned at him, shaking his head slightly. "Thinking about Lucy just….confuses things."

"Why?"

"Seriously, what is this, a talk show interview?"

Rufus continued to stare at him.

Wyatt sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. "Fine. It's just that….last night I was thinking about how things would be different if I was still married to Jess…."

"Um-hm," Rufus nodded in encouragement.

"And—there were parts of that picture….that I didn't like so much."

Rufus raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not that shocking….I mean….it would look different, that's for sure. Do you think you'd still be Time Team?"

Wyatt shrugged.

"And, back to my original question….where does Lucy come in to all this?"

Wyatt sighed, and decided to avoid the question entirely. "Thinking there are good things about being divorced….it's not right."

Rufus scrunched up his face. "Not right? I don't think right and wrong has anything to do with it. I mean….you've realized that there are things in your life that would be different if you were still married. And some of those things—well, maybe they're parts of your life that you've realized you really _like_ ….such as Time Teamin' it with me….and with Lucy."

Wyatt jerked his head in a quick nod.

"But there's nothing about that realization that is right or wrong….I mean….to me, all it says that there are parts of your current life that you really value, and wouldn't want to change. And that seems like a good thing….a _right_ thing, to me...like you're where you're supposed to be."

Wyatt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At first….I was thinking along the same lines as you. But….the longer I thought about it….the more it didn't _sit_ right. I mean….Jess and I took _vows_ , Rufus—for better or worse and all that. And now….thinking about liking the things I have in my life now….my life without her….it feels like I'm breaking those vows."

"So...first off-you are obviously spending _way_ too much time thinking, my man. And secondly...I don't think I remember marriage vows specifically covering colossal changes in timeline…."

"You know what I mean."

"No, actually I don't."

"What?"

"Because of your own logic-you idiot." Wyatt recognized that he had said that last bit gently, without malice...so he offered him a weak grin.

Rufus continued, "You say that you still feel responsible for your wife's death. If that's the case, then _this_ Jessica, the one who is alive….she's not the girl you exchanged vows with."

Wyatt raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"What I'm trying to say is, if you still feel responsible for her death….then that means your Jess….she's still gone. This Jess? Although you should absolutely celebrate the fact that she's alive, living her life….and happy—you don't….owe her anything. You weren't even _around_ when the divorce happened." Rufus fiddled with a pen that was sitting on top of the piles of paper at his feet. "And maybe….if you start concentrating on the fact that she's happy, and that there are things in your life that make _you_ happy….then maybe you'll be able to let go of some of that other crap….the guilt, the feeling responsible…."

"What bothers me, is that I was starting to do a lot better, these past few months, you know?"

"How so?"

"I was….beginning to be able to move on. I was beginning to let go….not of my love for Jess—but of the pain. But this….it changes things."

"Does it?"

"Yeah…..I think."

"From where I sit….I don't think it has to change anything."

Wyatt tilted his head to the side. That was something to think about. He was about to reply, but realized all he had to add right now was a shrug of his shoulders.

"You know what else I think?" Rufus continued, "I think you should concentrate on that stuff….letting go of the pain, getting in the right head-space to move on...rather than worrying whether or not thinking about Lucy confuses you. 'Cause I tell you what—I have a feeling thinking about Lucy is going to cause you some confusion for a long time to come, dude….but that's not a bad thing. Jiya's been causing me confusion since the day we met….and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Wyatt shook his head, "Yeah, but that's diff—" He stopped mid-word, and motioned toward the porthole. "Here comes Christopher."

"Thank goodness," Rufus said, opening his laptop again. "Don't' get me wrong, I love 'ya man….but let's agree not have another heart-to-heart like this for a while, okay? It's all a little too….intense for me, this early in the morning."

Wyatt laughed. "That's a deal. But thanks, anyway."

Rufus nodded at him. "Anytime." He paused, looking thoughtful, "Though, I suppose….that's actually a figure of speech. I really would rather keep any similar conversations to the afternoon-evening timeslot, if that's do-able for you? Now flip those two blue switches and let's see if we can't clean up the signal coming through the temporal side band."


	6. Wyatt

6\. Wyatt, aka Conversations with Myself

The day had carried on without much fanfare—finding ways to make himself useful at Mason Industries, teaching Rufus some self-defence moves in the gym….generally going through the motions, while his head still buzzed with some of the things Rufus had said. Once home—those thoughts continued. Those parts of his life that Rufus had referred to as _Time Teamin' it_ ….he really did like them. And Lucy…. But he shut that thought down before it got anywhere interesting.

He sighed to himself, playing with his phone. If he were married to Jess….he didn't think the Time Team thing would work. He'd hidden lots from her during their short marriage—lots of details about the work he did….it was part of the package for her, being married to someone in Delta Force….it was a part of the package he knew she had hated. But hiding details about missions overseas was one thing….hiding details about the existence of time travel? That was another thing altogether. And there were other more practical, less cosmic aspects to contend with, as well. There were the odd hours his team kept, and the overnight trips. _Overnight trips where he frequently shared a bed with Lucy_ he added to himself….even though that was completely platonic, at this point—but it would still prove awkward if he was married….for both of them.

And what would he tell Jess about the past, if he had suddenly found himself married to her again? Would he tell her about that time she had been murdered? She deserved to know the truth….but to actually say the words? Would he tell her about the time he'd travelled to the 80s, to try to save her? But he knew she would hate it….probably hate him for what he had done. So then how would he ever explain himself to her? How would he explain his emotional outbursts, his over-protective streak….how could he ever make her understand? He wouldn't be able to build a life with her _without_ telling her….but telling her would mean…..well it would mean likely finding himself in another black site prison for one thing….with her hating him and him being kicked off the Time Team as added bonuses. So….if she had come back to him, and they had still been married….then he would have had to leave the Time Team. And, unless he made peace with spending the next twenty years of his life in a pit….their marriage would have had at its foundation one gigantic lie of omission. Not an auspicious start.

He turned his phone over in his hand again. Fact was….being Time Team made him happy—it gave him a purpose….gave him a team to look out for. Would he be able to give all that up—to stay married to Jess? Could he give it up, to focus on her, on his marriage? Could he still make himself happy, in that situation? He closed his eyes, trying to picture it….what it would be like. Him, back together with Jess, but off the team, maybe even out of the military. Rufus and Lucy, continuing on with their missions—chasing Emma, trying to destroy Rittenhouse. Maybe they would even bring Agent Christopher with them? He wouldn't be able to share in their adventures. They would still text him occasionally, of course….but what would they talk about? Rufus would complain about not being an outdoorsman….and Lucy? What would she talk to him about? In a nanosecond, he knew the answer. She wouldn't talk to him….not really. She'd make small talk….but she wouldn't _really_ talk…. Because she wouldn't want to impose on him and Jess. Because she wouldn't want her friendship to be misconstrued by anyone…..by Jess….so she would pull away from him. And how would he feel about that? He couldn't even….God. He stood and walked toward the window, as a new thought entered the front of his mind. He stared out the window at the street scene outside, the fading light making the shadows grow long. Who would protect the team? Agent Christopher was great—but she didn't have the close quarter and hand-to-hand combat experience he had—she didn't have the specific skill set. And even if they assigned another soldier….how could he ever trust that his team would be okay? He felt ill, just thinking about the possibility of Rufus and Lucy….fighting Rittenhouse without him. They were the two bravest people he'd ever met….but who would protect them in a gun fight? Who would protect Lucy, if someone decided to take a run at her….if her mother decided to bring her back into the 'fold'? He couldn't leave them, he realized….because he wouldn't be able to function, not if he wasn't the person protecting them….sharing their experiences.

He moved away from the window….back toward the couch. So he couldn't function if he was off the Time Team….and yet he couldn't realistically _be_ Time Team, if he was still married to Jessica. So there it was. That was one reason why it was _good_ that he and Jess had gotten a divorce. And of course Rufus was right….there was nothing inherently _wrong_ with that….it just still made him feel kind of shitty. He looked down at his phone again, turning it around in his hand.

So….in this crazy time travel reality he now lived in….it had happened. He had been granted his one wish—gotten everything that he thought he had wanted—Jessica was alive. So why couldn't he just be happy about that? He threw the phone down on the couch cushion beside him, and ran his hands through his hair. But he _was_ happy she was alive. And he realized now that he was actually was okay with the fact that he was happy that he could continue being Time Team….which meant that he had to be okay with the fact that he and Jess were divorced.

But he knew that wasn't everything, he was still unsettled...there was still something else. He laughed at himself. Because _of course_ there was something else. And even though he had come to peace with some things….he knew that that other nebulous thought was still going to make sleeping difficult tonight.

Lucy.

Because she was the other reason it wasn't so bad, being divorced. And he hated the fact that his mind even went there. Being okay with the divorce because of his job was one thing….but because of….Lucy? That was something else. And if he wasn't careful….that was going to keep him up all night. And what good did thoughts like that even do him? It's not like he had said anything beyond that ridiculous _possibilities_ speech….and who even knew where she stood on that whole thing…. Except it seemed like Jiya knew. And Rufus knew. And, given what he had shouted at her in the conference room….he knew as well. _Shit_.

He sighed again, and stood. He started pacing across the room. He needed to calm himself—to chase away the feeling of uneasiness….to re-centre himself. He paused and scooped up the phone from the couch. It was silent. No texts. _Was that really what he was waiting for_? Would that help him settle his mind? And yet he'd just come to terms with the fact that talking to Lucy would probably make things worse right now—make things more confusing. So….if he wanted his brain to settle, for things to be _less_ confused….why was he sitting there, staring at his phone, willing it to show a text from her….like an idiot? And besides, hadn't he promised their next conversation would be in person? The conversation that, if he knew what was good for him, wouldn't happen until he had figured out….everything else. He was strong enough to do that, to wait to talk to her until he'd figured it all out—wasn't he?

He shoved the phone into his pocket— _out of sight, out of mind_ —and wandered into the kitchen. It was still relatively early….maybe he had time still to salvage tonight's sleeping. He could work out again….maybe invite Rufus out for a drink….watch a movie….maybe cook something…. He opened the fridge, and closed it again. Then he stared at the cupboards. Rufus was right….way to much thinking going on here. He shook his head, and grabbed his jacket from where he had hung it on the back of the kitchen chair. There was only one thing he wanted to do right now….only one place he wanted to be.

* * *

 _A/N Just a quick chapter this time-next one will be longer. Trying to get this story posted by the weekend, so expect frequent posts!_


	7. Lucy

_A/N: Okay….so given what this chapter is….I probably got a little carried away with the length of it all…. Enjoy!_

* * *

7\. Lucy

So that was how he had found himself there—showing up at her door, unannounced, with a bottle in one hand. He rapped on the door with the other. There was a short pause, during which he contemplated just how monumentally stupid this decision had been—but given the fact that he'd been doing, not _thinking_ when he made the decision, he guessed he really shouldn't be surprised.

Eventually, there was a clatter on the other side of the door, and the knob turned. He registered the look of surprise on her face—surprise to see him standing there. But then, coming to visit unannounced—that wasn't something they _did_ , was it? _Crap_. What if she wasn't a fan of his latest impulse move? They stared at each other for a moment, until he found his voice.

"Shit, sorry. I mean, you probably have plans, right? I should have called, before coming over.

"Yeah, I'm having the queen of England for dinner. Of course I don't have any plans," she smiled, and stepped to the side, "But now I do!"

She ushered him in, and he looked around the sparse apartment. It was the first time he'd seen the place in this timeline—although he had helped her move in, shortly before his birthday, in their previous timeline.

"So, how's the government sponsored digs treating you?"

"Well, better than being homeless, I guess. But it's a little….cold, in an institutionalized kind of way." She took the bottle from him, and carried it across the living room. "This isn't one of those soap-flavoured ones, is it?"

He grinned. "Nope. Your objections to the Islay malts have bene duly noted. It's West Highland. You'll like it, promise."

She turned back toward him, matching his grin.

 _Thank God—she seemed to be okay with this….okay that he just showed up and barged in….even though the last time he had seen her he had yelled something awful—"_

She tilted her head to the side, "And what would my sister say, if she knew I was now a scotch drinker?"

"She'd say you had good taste?" he smiled. He realized he was beginning to relax more—now that he could tell Lucy really _was_ happy to see him….now that they were able to fall back so easily into their typical conversation patterns.

Lucy was shaking her head at him, as she moved into the kitchen. She threw her next statement back over her shoulder toward him. "Nope, she'd say you are a bad influence on me, Wyatt Logan. Oh, crap."

"What?" he started following her into the kitchen.

"Oh—I don't have any proper glasses….the place only came with some water tumblers….I bought wine glasses about a week ago….so that's our choices, I guess."

She turned toward him then, and he flashed his smuggest grin, holding out two whisky glasses, from behind his back. "Not my first rodeo with government sponsored housing set-ups. You can keep these, you know, just in case you ….?" He shrugged, "Well, you can keep them."

She gave him another soft smile….that seemed just a little too serious….and seemed just a little too dangerous right now.

"I mean," he held up a glass, trying to lighten things again, "You would think proper bar ware should be near the top of the list when stocking military black ops safe houses…"

She giggled. Mission accomplished.

So…., he took the glasses into the living room, motioning Lucy to follow. "So….Amy would say I was a bad influence on you? But before you told me that she'd like me."

"Oh, but she would. She was always saying how much I was in _need_ of a bad influence in my life."

He barked a short laugh, at her unexpected response, and he poured them both healthy glasses. "Well then, as your self-appointed and proclaimed bad influence….cheers."

"Cheers," she responded, and they settled onto her couch, with the bottle between them on the coffee table.

They sat in easy silence for a moment, and then she turned slightly to face him. He responded, turning his own body to face hers.

She took a sip of her drink, "So….how are you doing?

He took a sip of his drink, and sighed. _Might as well get right to it_. "I'm really sorry—for being such an ass, back at Mason."

She waved him off. "Don't—it's not necessary."

"But…."

"Stop. I told you—not necessary."

He looked at her cautiously. She was smiling at him, and the hard tone to her previous statement had left no trace on her face.

"Besides, you told me on the phone that if we talked about this again….you wouldn't just apologise….you'd tell me what was bothering you.

"I know….and I will. But Luce," He reached across the couch, rubbing his hand on her shoulder, "I really do want to apologise to you….properly….not by text."

"Wyatt…"

"Please let me? And I'll try to explain, too."

He took her silence as agreement. "When I said….what I said, at Mason….in the conference room. That was really horrible of me—I was confused, hurting…..I don't know. But I _do_ know I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I….I didn't mean what I said as being about you….I mean, I think I was feeling guilty….because, with this whole Jessica thing? There are things about this situation….her being alive, us being divorced….well there are things about this situation that work out pretty well for _me_ ….and that's what's been bothering me….because it feels….wrong….to think that."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't seem inclined to press him further.

But he knew he owed her more than that. "The good things about being divorced from Jess? Well—one big one is being able to work….with you. Being Time Team….it's really important to me. You….and Rufus….really important to me.

She nodded. "Thank you for telling me that. Working with you….with Rufus….that's really important to me too."

He gave her a small smile.

"I know it's maybe hard for you to be objective about things right now….but from where I sit….being glad that you can still be a part of a mission that's important to you….that's nothing you should feel guilty about."

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah….I mean, I can understand that in my head….it's just when my emotions get involved that my thinking goes a little….haywire. So yeah….that morning….I think the idea that there were things about the divorce that worked out for me….it was bouncing around in my head. But, I never meant to say it about... _you_."

She watched him for a moment, then put her hand on his, clasping it with hers, and moving their hands to rest on the couch cushion between them, entwined.

"I admit….pretty good apology there. But….that's the thing, Wyatt. I think maybe you really did mean it….about me.

He drew back as though stung.

She released his hand, giving a slight shrug. "And that's okay. And, in some ways….maybe it was a little bit true. Or….maybe even more than a little bit. So….that's why I don't think you need to apologise."

He worried his lower lip with his teeth for a moment, not sure what to do with that admission. "Well….I sure as hell shouldn't have shouted it across the room….especially not with Jiya, Rufus, and Agent Christopher there."

"Yeah…that wasn't fun."

"Then, do you accept my apology for that?"

She smiled, faintly. "Yeah, I can do that," and she clasped his hand again, bringing it to her mouth, and kissing it lightly.

They sat in silence for a moment. He knew she had been very kind to him—not pushing him for details when he stated there were aspects—plural—of this whole screwed up situation that worked out well for him….and then only told her one. It was kind….or maybe just cautious. But he knew at some level….she was still hurting, because of him. And he also knew that cautious wasn't going to be what would move them forward from this strange place they found themselves in. And he was reckless….and he needed to know. "Luce?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you mean by 'maybe it was a little bit true'?"

"You know what? I asked you how you were doing….and you gave me an apology. An apology is not the correct response to that question."

"And that comment _so_ did not answer _my_ question."

She shrugged at him, and downed her drink in one gulp.

He stared at her.

"Oh, I am aware," she said, "In fact, that was pretty much the point. So….pour me another drink soldier….and tell me about how you're doing."

He shook his head at her in amazement. Then downed his own drink. "Can't let you get ahead of me, can I?" he said, as he reached for the bottle and poured two more glasses.

She took a slow sip this time, and stared at him, unflinching.

He glanced at his feet, then taking a breath, returned her gaze. "How am I doing? It seems….like dream, like it's not really my life….this reality. You know how I had a box of research materials on Jessica's case?"

She nodded slightly.

"Well….I still go looking for that box some nights, when I can't sleep….only to then remember that there is no box….because there no longer is a mystery."

"It's a lot to get used to," she offered.

He nodded. "Jessica isn't dead….she's alive. And I am so happy about that."

"But?" she asked, softly.

He took a small drink. "I know that means I shouldn't feel guilty anymore….but I still do. She's not dead….she didn't have to experience any of that….but I still did. Does that make any sense? It's as if….it's like there's two Jessicas….my Jessica, the one I fought with that night, the one who was…." he trailed off. "And then there's this other Jessica….the one who is alive. But her being alive doesn't make the first Jessica disappear….you know?"

"So, you're saying you still feel responsibility for it all?" She looked at him with—was that concern?

"Yeah—I mean….nothing's changed, not about that night….not for me. And now—I can't even find her justice now….because there's nothing to find justice for….except for what's still in my head."

She shook her head. "Wyatt, you can't do this….you can't keep torturing yourself like this."

He chuckled darkly. "Why not?"

"Because no matter how much you want to fight me on this….I know that you're not responsible for what happened that night. Did you make some mistakes in the way you handled things? Yes. But you didn't kill her—that was some psychopath on the road." She spoke so softly, it was almost a whisper. "And what about when you tried to save her—when you stole the _time machine_ , and went back to 1983?"

"What about it?"

"If it had worked….if you had come back, and Jess was alive….would you still have felt responsible for that night?"

He blew out a breath, sinking back against the couch cushions. "In all honesty….probably. I mean….it wouldn't have changed the fact that I had gone through all that, back in 2012. But it would have been easier….because I would have made up for it….somehow….and Jessica would have been able to live her life."

"But _this_ Jessica is doing just that—living her life," she took another sip.

He sighed, "I know….you're right."

"I am," she said. "So is it just because you don't know what changed? That you didn't purposefully change the timeline to bring her back?"

He scoffed at that. "No….I'm not that big of an ego maniac. I think it's just…." He trailed off, rubbing his hand across his neck. "It's just that….it's like she's a different Jess altogether….and that my Jess is still gone."

Lucy pursed her lips. But if your '83 jump _had_ worked….I don't think you'd feel any differently. I mean, this Jessica….or that Jessica…." She sighed. "Wyatt, you went through this massive life-changing experience in 2012….an experience that an alive Jessica doesn't know anything about….and couldn't possibly understand. Not to mention whatever's gone on between Jessica and Wyatt in this timeline that you have no memory of…."

She was looking at him….and she was right. She always seemed to be right. He sighed, and nodded at her, slowly.

"And," she continued, "I know you say you're not that big of an ego-maniac to care about such things….but maybe _this_ change is some kind of delayed reaction thing—maybe some tiny piece in 1814 changed that resulted in Jess being alive _only_ because you had previously ensured Gilliam didn't exist."

He took another drink, reaching for her hand without looking, and grasping it tightly in his when he found it.

"Thanks," he smiled at her. "Talking it out, it helps….it really does. And sooner or later….I will be better at accepting this whole thing….and I'll be able to sleep again."

"Good," she nodded, squeezing his hand back. "I actually think you're already starting to accept it….you know. And sleep is good—then you won't be such a grumpy bear."

He laughed a little, at that. "You know, it's not like there aren't plenty of _other_ reasons for us to lie awake at night."

"Hmmm?"

"It is _so_ screwed up….being able to remember one life….while the people around you have memories of living a totally different one." He glanced meaningfully at her locket. "But it's easier….knowing that you understand."

She nodded. "I do….and Rufus too." She took a drink. "It _is_ hard….but maybe it's worse for everyone else—everyone who _can't_ rembmer….at least we can." She shifted on the couch, moving _much_ closer to him, and drained the rest of her drink. She put it on the coffee table, and he refilled, without asking.

She smiled in acknowledgement.

He smiled back, but his heart sank as he saw her eyes grow dark, and she gave a long sigh. He hadn't come here tonight to make her feel badly. "Luce, it's okay—"

She cut him off, "So we keep changing things, flipping things around, totally screwing with everyone else's memories. They have no control of any of it. I mean….how _scary_ is that? And we can remember, we can keep track of the changes…but we can't always control it….I don't know."

He sighed, shifting slightly until their knees were touching. "We just….we just do the best we can Luce….that's all we can do. And maybe someday…..someday we'll figure out a way to put it all to right again….or the universe will figure out a way to do that."

"Self-healing Universe Hypothesis."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, "Yeah….something like that."

She picked up the bottle, and started re-filling his glass. "You know, Rufus says that some theories postulate multiple universes, running in parallel, so when we jump back from a change in the past, we're actually just entering another timeline-universe, not irrevocably changing the first. And if that's the case, then I guess we're not _really_ changing people's memories."

He nodded, "The Multiverse Hypothesis."

"Yeah—so, you know about that too?"

He smiled at her lightly, "I've probably googled time travel a couple hundred times since we started this thing."

She laughed. "Yeah, me too." She twisted in her seat, seeming to look out the window, then un-twisted, bring her gaze to his face again….an easy smile on her face, eyes brighter than they had been before. "So….what did you learn?"

"Mostly just that Rufus is some kind of genius."

She giggled then. "You're probably right….and Jiya, too."

He nodded, bumping her knee with his, "Rufus, and Jiya, and you…."

"But, you know," she reached for the bottle, pouring herself a little more, his eyebrows raised at the size of the shot, but he said nothing. "You're a genius too….in your own way."

He barked out a laugh—he hadn't been expecting that. "What, me? Sorry ma'am, think you must be confusing me with someone else. I'm just the grunt in our trio."

"Grunt?"

"Yeah." He threw a smirk in her direction. "Don't worry, there's one in every family."

She shook her head at him, and then ran her hand down his arm. "I don't like it, when you talk about yourself that way. You know you're way more than that."

"I am?" he asked, shifting again, increasing their contact at the knee, and staring at her eyes.

She shrugged, "You are to me."

He shook his head, scratching his cheek, suddenly needing to break eye contact with her. "So," he began, "Multiverse Hypothesis. If that's true….then the me that _was_ here, that was divorced from Jess, that never had….that other experience," he started, unable to put words to it. "Where is he….where am I….now? I mean, now that this version me is here?"

She took another large sip from her drink. "Pretty sure I'm not drunk enough for this conversation."

"Luce," he chuckled, "But don't you ever think about it?"

"The better question is—do I ever stop thinking about it?"

He topped up both their drinks.

She nodded, and sighed, tucking her foot up under her leg. "So, what do you think, about the other….usses?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She tried again, "Usseses? Uh….Ussi?"

"The other versions of us?" he offered.

"Thank you," she chuckled, and raised her glass to him.

"Well," he began, "I guess they are in another universe too."

She scrunched her nose at him, "So, you're saying the other you, the other me….they got in their lifeboat and jumped….and then returned to yet another universe?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I guess that's how it works. But," he shifted again, so that their legs were now pressing against each other. "Well….so what about the first universe then?"

"Hm?"

"In the first timeline, _our_ original timeline….Amy's timeline," he said, carefully watching her face. "We climbed in that machine, off to the Hindenburg….and then what? Did some form of us ever return? Or is everyone there still waiting for us to come back? No, I don't think I like the multiple universe theory any better, sorry."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. So, just one linear universe then….one that we keep," she looked down at the glass in her hand, rolling it between her palms, " _Fucking_ with…."

Wyatt's head snapped back— _pretty sure that was a new word in her outside-her-head vocabulary, since the time they'd met_.

She took another drink, and continued. "People, like Amy, just disappear, are gone, and no one knows they were ever here."

He sighed, taking another drink himself, and pushing his head against the back of the couch cushions, closing his eyes. "But, if this jump has taught us anything, it's that….people can come back."

"But Jessica was never erased, she just…."

Lucy trailed off, but Wyatt had already filled in her statement. " _Died_. I know. But if something that we still haven't been able to pinpoint changed in 1814 that meant she didn't….then something could just as easily change that would get your mom and your Dad—Henry—back together again, right?" he opened his eyes, and turned himself toward her again.

Lucy played with her glass, seeming to stare at a point somewhere buried in the amber liquid.

"What?" he asked, softly.

"Uh, I don't know. Just thinking about my mother." She began to swirl her drink, still not meeting Wyatt's eye. "Do you think there's a timeline where she's not Rittenhouse?"

He remained silent for a moment, then said, "I guess it's possible, but it's not a timeline I'd want to visit."

"What!?"

He smiled gently, raising his glass in her direction. "'Cause if she wasn't Rittenhouse, she probably wouldn't have got together with Ben Cahill, and then you wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"Oh."

He could tell by the expression on her face that she hadn't considered _that_ possibility.

She was quiet for a moment, taking another sip of her drink, then suddenly peered back at him, quizzically. "So, how do you think _that_ would work? I mean, what if we went back, and somehow changed history so that my mother wasn't….and that she and Ben didn't…. Then what?"

"Seriously, this is what you want to think about?"

"Humour me."

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head at her. "Okay, well, if we were back in time and changed something so that your Mom wasn't Rittenhouse, your parents didn't meet….but you were already there….because you were with Rufus an' me, changing history…."

She looked at him, eyes wide as though hanging on his next word.

"I don't know!"

She laughed lightly. "Well, I guess Marty McFly tells us I would somehow disappear as I stood there, apparently starting with my hands….and I guess you could track it, with a photograph?

He chuckled. "Well….you know I love my Marty McFly….but isn't it more likely that you would _not_ disappear, but come back to 2018 in the Lifeboat—and it would just be that no one would have any idea who you were….except Rufus an' me? He pressed his lips together, thinking more about that. "I guess it's not the worst thing ever…."

"Wait," she asked suddenly, her hand coming down with light force and landing—and staying—on his knee. "Are we talking about multiple universes again, or one linear timeline? Because if we're talking about…."

Wyatt was very aware of the fact that he wasn't listening anymore….he was just staring….staring at the way her eyes widened with an idea, the way her lips moved when forming words…. _Crap_ , she was beautiful, and _crap_ , she was spinning again, caught in a loop in her head….the way she did when she got anxious. And causing that kind of reaction in her _really_ hadn't been his plan in coming over here….not that he even had a plan when he came over….but this definitely wasn't it. She was likely aware by now that he was staring….and he didn't even care. He supposed he could kiss her, to stop her thoughts from spinning. _Seriously Logan_? He needed to break his own thought spin right now—because none of these thoughts were going to help him in getting his head on straight….and they might make something else straight….and he needed to break out of _that_ specific thought spin right. now!

"Do you want some water, Luce?"

She looked at him in mild surprise….he suspected she had still been talking, and he had just interrupted her….mid-lecture, as it were.

"Um, sure."

"Okay." He got up off the couch, immediately missing the contact of her body against his, and went to the kitchen to get two glasses of water.

"Your whisky glass is empty," he heard her almost sing-song voice float toward him from the living room.

"Better fill it for me, then," he replied, shaking his head with a smile as he brought the two glasses back into the living room and put them on the coffee table. "That's quite the healthy pour," he laughed, noting the generous amount of whisky now in his glass.

She shrugged, "I don't hear you actually complaining about it."

"No."

She patted the cushion beside her. "Come sit with me again."

"Yes, bossy ma'am," he said, plunking himself down beside her, close enough so that they were pressed together. He leaned forward to grab his glass, took a sip, and then leaned back again, wrapping his free arm around her waist. She leaned in closer, her head nearly resting on his shoulder. _This was nice_ ….and was that a problem? He shoved that thought aside, having no interest in examining _anything_ like that thought, tonight.

He felt her soft sigh against his neck.

"With all these timelines…."

"Um-hm."

"Well….is there a _true_ timeline….like, the real one, that the universe is supposed to follow?"

He snorted. "I have no idea. But….I guess maybe….maybe our timeline….our first one."

"Why?" she had lifted her head from his shoulder, and was staring at him, intently.

"Why what?" he asked.

"I mean….I agree….but why do we presume that our original timeline is the _true_ one. How do we know that others from the future hadn't already messed with the past? So that maybe our timeline wasn't the true one anymore….even before we'd ever heard of the Lifeboat." She took another small drink, then leaned back against him, without breaking eye contact. How are we supposed to judge what is real….or true? How can we make decisions like that when we're surrounded by chaos?"

"I dunno, Luce," he pulled her tighter against him. "I still say we have to make it up as we go—rely on our instinct….if your inner voice says it is right, it is."

She sniffed, "And you call me the spiritual one."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you called you the spiritual one."

"So….chaos is everywhere—strive on with diligence?"

"Uh….sure?"

She smiled again, "It's a quote….Buddha."

He smirked. "Like I said….sure."

"I know that Amy is in the true timeline….she has to be. Anyone that once existed has to exist in the true timeline."

He saw some possible flaws in logic in her theory, but chose not to go there, instead saying, "What about Jessica?"

He was surprised when she answered without hesitation. "In the true timeline, she's alive."

 _Why the hell did he even ask that_? "You said that so confidently…."

"Yeah….that's what my gut says."

He nodded, then asked, "Is she married to me?"

She looked at him for a moment, over the rim of her glass, then took a large sip. "I just realized….when we travel in time and change something….we're kind of blowing a couple of the basic assumptions of science out of the water….which would mean that science itself is unreliable….but then how could they have used science to successfully create the time machine in the first place?"

The chuckle started so deep inside him it was almost a rumble, until it was rolling out of him in waves. Aware that she was gaping at him, he forced himself to gain control, and turned his head to meet her eyes again. "I thought you were the historian in our merry band—not the scientist!"

"I once taught a class on the history of science."

He smiled at her fondly, reaching out to smooth one of her unruly curls near her ear, "Of course you did."

She straightened then, breaking contact from his side, but simultaneously running her hand down his arm. "So you were right….this whisky is pretty good. I wouldn't normally have this much….but I like it."

He nodded at her, "Go ahead and have more, if you want….you're not driving anywhere."

She peered at him, "But what about you?"

"Me? I'll call a cab."

"Don't be silly…..then your truck would still be here…. Stay here tonight."

He waggled a finger at her, "Bossy, bossy, bossy…." But smiled then, and moved to pour her another drink. "Drink your water too."

"Okay, now who's being bossy?" but he grinned as she reached to grab the tumbler and took a large drink. He watched as her face changed then, becoming quizzical again.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

"So….here's another one for you. What would happen if, on a time jump, the three of us changed the timeline in such a way that, in the new timeline, one of us _couldn't_ get into that lifeboat?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't know….let's say….let's say Rufus' timeline changed, and he ended up in prison or something, on the date the three of us first went to the Hindenburg…..then what would happen?"

Wyatt tilted his head at her and threw her a fresh smirk. He adored the way she leaned in, as though in anticipation of what he was about to say. "You know, he actually _did_ end up in prison, the day we went to the Hindenburg, if you'll remember."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

 _Ohhhh….that tiny glimpse of her pink tongue wasn't helping him focus on this conversation._ But he shoved that to the side, and allowed his smirk to slide into a more relaxed smile. "Rufus and I actually talked about something like that, once."

"About him being in prison?"

"No….about changing the timeline so significantly that the three of us couldn't originally go back in time."

"So, you guys talk like this," she motioned between the two of them, "Too?"

He shrugged, "Not often, really….sometimes. But I guess it was similar, if you count this," he raised his whisky to salute her, and gave her a wink. "We were out at this bar, and just got to drinking, and talking…." He shrugged again. "We normally talk about sports….or food….or movies…. _And we spend a rather shocking amount of time talking about the women in our lives_ , the voice in his head said. "But that night….that's what we talked about."

"And?"

"What?"

"And what did you and Rufus come up with?"

"Well, it was Rufus mostly….but it makes some sense to me. He thinks that, no matter what happens to the timeline, the three of us have to get into that machine to chase Flynn to the Hindenburg. So, because of that, he thinks there must be some features of our own personal histories that are….fixed….unchangeable."

"That's interesting. So—like I would have to always be a historian?"

"Probably….although I suppose there could be an alternate timeline where you're the Master Sargent and I'm the historian."

She giggled at that.

"Now, not to argue with Master Genius Rufus….but I'm not one hundred percent sure it actually needs to be the three of us that get in that Lifeboat….I mean, they could have given you and Rufus another soldier, and it still could have gone the same way….right? But still, given it was the three of us that first trip….I kind of see his point."

"I'm getting a headache….and no, it's nothing to do with the whisky."

He chuckled again. "Maybe not yet." He shifted again, looping his arm back around her waist. "But, it seems to me, that, no matter what, this 'necessary constants' theory would be about more than just the three of us. Like, Connor Mason—he would still have to _build_ the time machine, right? And Rufus too. Which, maybe is why his timeline hasn't changed that drastically as ours since this whole thing started….it _can't_ , because, no matter what, he needs to help invent a time machine….and then he needs to pilot it."

She stared into her glass for a moment, seemingly contemplating this new possibility. Then she took a long drink, nearly draining her glass. Wyatt wordlessly poured for her, again, and she nodded her thanks.

"So….if it's essential that the three of us get in that giant ball bearing—" she looked confused, searching for a word, "—Ball... What do you think would be the constants, in your life?" She once again watched her glass, as she swirled the whisky around.

He contemplated for a moment, as he'd done for hours, the night he and Rufus had first had the conversation. "I don't know….I guess going into the military, of course….you know, barring you being a star at West Point."

She smiled; her eyes encouraged him to continue.

"For me to go into the military….I _think_ that would mean that I would always need Grandpa Sherwin to be a major influence in my life. For me to be on the West Coast, at the right time to be assigned this gig? Well….that one's tougher for me. The Syria mission was what caused me to be assigned on the West Coast….I like to think there could be other ways to get me here though…." he trailed off. And then there was that _other_ thing.

Lucy was looking at him, with something between anticipation and trepidation in her eyes.

He took a breath, taking another long drink from his glass. "After 1983 and my time in that black site prison—and until….very recently—I would have said that Jess' death was a constant, too."

Lucy nodded, and quietly said, "I can understand why you might have thought that."

He shrugged, slowly, but obviously….I was wrong about that."

"But you still aren't married….maybe that's the constant?"

"Could be, I guess." he returned his attention to his beverage, suddenly unable to meet Lucy's eyes.

The discomfort grew. He wasn't used to that, between them, and he didn't like it. After a moment, he decided to direct the conversation elsewhere.

"What do you think your constants are, Luce?"

She exhaled a soft breath. "History….I guess. My family, well…."

He was immediately sorry for asking the question, as he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"….Well, I guess we already know my sister and Dad aren't constant. But Carol and Benjamin Cahill are….." she sighed again, then fixed him with a suddenly steely gaze. "But that means Rittenhouse is a constant too, by your logic."

"Hey," he put up a hand, in mock defense, "It's Rufus' logic….not mine."

"No, but….I mean it. If there's no Rittenhouse….you already said there might not be a _me_."

"I know Luce, but I've babbled a lot of nonsense tonight."

"No, but….think. If there's no Rittenhouse, then Flynn never steals the mothership….and the three of us never chase him to the Hindenburg. Which, by your logic…."

He raised an eyebrow at her again— _Rufus' logic_ —but she plowed through, not seeming to notice.

"….Is impossible. So Rittenhouse has to exist. And they have to kill Flynn's family"….she whispered then…. "He can't change that….maybe no matter what? But that would mean that we can't destroy Rittenhouse by going in the past."

"I think we kind of already figured that out, didn't we Luce? Back in '54?"

"You're probably right."

He smiled at her pulling her closer, softly stroking up and down her arm. "Just thought of another constant. No matter who it is that has to get into that Lifeboat….my constant is that I have to meet you."

"Why is that a constant?"

"Just 'cause I wanna," he smiled at her.

She ducked her head for a moment, then leaned into his side, "Me too."

His smile turned into a lazy smirk, "Have another drink, Luce."

She gazed at him for a beat, then returned a remarkably good impression of his own smirk. "I just think I might."

He laughed and leaned forward to grab the bottle, refilling both their glasses.

"Not a whole lot left in that bottle….is there."

He shook his head, "Nope. Probably just as well."

He leaned back into the couch cushions, pulling her gently backward to reposition them until they were once again fitted against each other. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks.

Lucy sighed dramatically.

"What?"

She shrugged. "Just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

"Time travel."

"Hmmmm wondering why crossing that closed time-like curve thingy causes so much turbulence it makes you want to toss your cookies?"

"Uh….no."

He shrugged. "Okay, that must have just been me."

Although it barely seemed possible, she snuggled tighter against him. "If you must know—I was thinking about all those theories….multiple universes, single alterable timelines, universal constants, true universes….." she trailed off and went a quiet again—long enough that Wyatt almost wondered if she'd fallen asleep. He shifted slightly so he could see her face, and found her staring up at him.

"How can they not know for sure what happens….how it works? I mean, we can _do_ it now—time travel—so somebody must understand how it works."

He moved his hand to her shoulder, sliding his fingers to absently trace circles on the back of her neck. "I don't know, Luce….just 'cause we can do it….I don't think that means we have to understand it. I mean….I think humanity was tripping and falling on their asses thousands of years before anyone understood how gravity works."

She grinned at him "Who knew you were such a philosopher?" "And, Mr. Philosopher, exactly how _does_ gravity work?"

He grinned, and took another sip of his drink. "Think you may have just proved my point, ma'am."

"Hmmmm." She pulled back from his shoulder, looking at him carefully. Then she took a large sip from her glass, and turned back to him, crinkling her nose.

"No….I don't buy that. I mean….we're smart—we can figure this out."

"Time travel?"

"Yeah! We'll figure it out, then we can tell Rufus and Jiya…."

He barked a short laugh. "No….I really don't think we can." He took another sip of his drink. "Ah, baby-doll…." he trailed off.

"What?"

He smiled. "That's why I love you, Luce, you're eternally optimistic." _What did he just say?_ Crap! Maybe he was more intoxicated than he thought— _she didn't catch that, right?_ Crapity-crap! New plan—play innocent, Logan.

"What?" she asked.

And he didn't like the look of surprise in her eye—apparently she was inebriated enough to think they could solve the mysteries of time travel, but not so inebriated that she had missed what he had said….the _word_ that he had said. "I….I don't know—what did I say?"

She was silent for a moment, and he thought he'd escaped. But then she pulled her head back, looked him right in the eye—and said, "I thought you said 'I love—Lu'"

"I love Lucy?" he asked. "You mean that 50s TV show? Nah, I think I'd have remembered saying that…..I never really understood that show….never found it that funny."

"Gah—I used to hate that."

"Hate what?"

"I Love Lucy….not the show, I mean, I never really watched it….just the title. Amy would say it to me—like all the time when she was a kid, and then would race away laughing. And she'd do it in front of my friends….and other kids who weren't my friends. In fact, by the time I got to high school….pretty much everyone would say it to me. Gosh I hated it, didn't want anybody saying it to me.

"Hm," he said.

"Hm what?"

"Just….not that original, really."

She quirked another eyebrow at him….which somehow seemed more comical than inquisitive, now that she was obviously feeling the effects of the whisky….or was that just because _he_ was feeling the effects of the whisky?

"Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" he nodded confidently. "I would have gone with that."

"Huh?"

"If we knew each other in high school….I would have tormented you with _that_ title. You know, 'hey Lucy—why you on the ground?'; 'hey Lucy—where's your diamonds?'….that sort of thing."

"You would have?" a broad smile spread across her face.

"You say that like it's a good thing—I think you might have missed the whole _torment_ part of that."

She shrugged, "Well, it's just nice to think you would have noticed me."

"Luce—how could I ever _not_ notice you?"

Her broad smile turned adorably shy."

"I mean—with you barking orders all over the place constantly."

She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. And that bony joint to the intercostals made him ridiculously happy. _But of course he couldn't let on about that_. "Hey! Actually, now that I think about it, you really do have a lot in common with my old drill sergeant from Basic….surprised I never noticed that before."

"Wyatt!"

She moved as though to playfully smack his arm—but he was faster than her. He grabbed her wrist, and moved it back toward the cushion, lightly pinning her hand in place with his. She looked at him—eyes wide and feigning being scandalized—no doubt trying to guess his next move. But she must have failed, because when he suddenly released her hand she wasn't at all prepared to block his plan—as he dove at her with both hands, grabbing at the sides of her torso….and tickled.

She shrieked in surprise, and then laughed uncontrollably, as his fingers raced along her sides and across her stomach, even hitting the tiniest bit of warm, bare skin as her sweater rose up slightly. She twisted and turned, laughing and gasping. "Wy—att!" she whined, somehow still laughing.

He stopped suddenly, moving his hands to his knees, now laughing himself. She was leaned back on the couch cushions now, balancing on her elbows. Her face was flushed, eyes bright, and she was gasping for breaths between fits of laughter. _And she was beautiful_.

"You are definitely ticklish," he said, leaning forward to grasp her around the shoulders, pulling her upright and bringing her against him again.

"No shit."

He laughed. "Well—these are important things to know, you know." _And he wanted to learn everything about her_.

"You could have just asked."

"Could have….but this was more fun."

He watched her hands as she slid them over her head, smoothing out her errant curls.

He grinned at her. "So, LSD—"

"What?"

"You know—Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

"Right."

"So—if you didn't want anyone saying 'I Love Lucy' back in the day…."

She was staring at him now with a curious expression….and he was no longer sure it was wise to finish his question. After all, it was a little bit….reckless. So he hesitated….but she was still staring at him. _And when would he ever have the nerve to ask this when he was sober_? In the service of learning everything about her….and when she already thought him reckless….why not?

"So….if you didn't want anyone saying 'I Love Lucy' in high school….what did people say instead?

"What did who say instead?"

He chuckled, running his hand across his neck. "I don't know….but you know what I mean."

She shook her head, "I do not."

He tilted his head to the side. "Come on…."

But she just looked at him.

"I mean….boyfriends, I guess."

She worried her lower lip between her teeth, seeming to consider his question. Then she shrugged. "I don't know—in high school none of them ever said that."

He shrugged, "And later?"

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly….still seeming to consider….then said, "It must be hard for Rufus and Jiya—with him always time travelling without her. That must be weird."

He contemplated telling her that what was weird was the whiplash he'd received from that topic shift...but then she threw him a soft smile and pressed closer against his side….and he found himself suddenly willing to talk about _anything_ she wanted to talk about.

"Jiya told me once that we're all a little bit different, each time we return from a jump….to her, we're like different….versions."

She scrunched her nose. "So is Rufus the 'other man' then? Like…. _all the time_ ….when he's with Jiya?"

"The 'other man' to himself? I guess so."

"That's….disturbing."

The smile slid from his face then, as he became more serious. "You know, I was so scared….when we went back without you….and then they hauled me off to that….place, before we could really talk. I was scared if you would remember all the things about….us….that I remembered. I guess I was probably most scared of what you wouldn't remember."

She looked at him, serious now too, and placed her hand on his knee. "Was there anything….anything that I seemed to remember differently?"

He shook his head, "Not that I've ever noticed."

She nodded. "Well," she smirked, "Guess we dodged that one!"

"Yeah."

"But let's not make a habit of that….of travelling without each other….okay?"

"Deal."

"But seriously….how do Jiya and Rufus deal with that?" she leaned back again, her hand moving from his knee to tuck against him at his elbow.

He smiled. "Guess you'll have to ask Jiya 2.8….or….is that Jiya 2.9 to you? I guess if you count that Texas bounce…."

"What?"

He laughed, throwing his arm around her shoulder. "Never mind."

She patted his arm and leaned forward then, grabbing at the nearly-empty glass on the coffee table….taking three attempts before she actually caught it up in her hand. He laughed….he couldn't help it….it was just so...her.

"Wyatt?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I might be….tipsy."

"You just think you might be?"

She stuck her tongue out at him again. _And there was that tongue again_ ….along with all the resulting thoughts that then rushed his brain.

"Actually," he said, grabbing his own glass and taking a gulp. "I'd say you're a little more than tipsy, there.

"Slightly inebriated?" she asked.

He pursed his lips, pretending to consider that, "Nah….more like….sloshed….hammered maybe."

"Really."

He nodded.

"What about you—I suppose you think you're stone sober?"

He chuckled. "No. I'm….agreeably buzzed."

She laughed at him then, a lilting peal of laughter. She pulled away from his side, but then the momentum from the laughter continued to carry her, as she listed sideways, nearly capsizing against the opposite couch cushion—before he caught her.

"I think that's the first time I've ever seen someone fall _on_ to a couch."

His comment caused another rush of giggles before she regained control. He tucked her back against his side.

"I don't get it." She said, sleepily.

"Get what?"

"I've been matching you….drink for drink. And I think I might be…." She looked at him mischievously ….drunk. But you say you're not drunk….and you're right….you don't seem like…. _super_ drunk….why aren't you?"

"Luce, darling," he drawled with a wink, "Pretty sure that, any day of the week, I can drink you under the table….around the table, beside the table, on top of the table…. And then thoughts of other things the two of them could do in those positions relative to said table began invading his mind. _Crap, Logan—think about something else, right now_!

"And two times on Sundays," she slurred.

He knew they were having two different conversations—or rather, that his traitorous mind had co-opted the original conversation—but damn if his body didn't _feel_ her twice on Sundays comment, as it caused even more new and interesting pictures to cartwheel through his mind….and hell did he need to change the topic _right now_. And shift his lower body away from her—and hope that Lucy didn't notice his current state.

And out of nowhere, she asked: "Do you like the painting?" as she motioned to the one hanging over the couch, behind them.

He twisted to look at it. "Uh….sure? It's new, right? I mean, since the previous timeline?"

She sighed. "Yeah—couldn't stand the one the place came with. You should change the one over your couch to something _you_ like too, you know. I mean, the one that's there….there's no way that's yours, right?"

He shook his head in wonder at her. "No—all Uncle Sam's….but what made you so sure that it couldn't be mine? It's just a stupid painting."

She shrugged. "I don't know, I guess it just doesn't say _you_ , you know?"

"Nope," he laughed, "I really have no clue what you're talking about."

"Well, you would, if it were really your picture…."

"So you're saying that you know me well enough to identify my chosen art work by sight?"

"Of course."

"Don't tempt me Preston….or I'll create a new drinking game, next time we're at my place—'guess the art-owner'."

"Wouldn't be any fun at all….I wouldn't ever have to drink."

"You're right," he pushed another renegade curl off her cheek—reveling in the way her face shone, the way her walls had seemed to come down. "No fun in that at all."

"I was always really terrible in art at school, you know."

He shook his head, chuckles spilling out from somewhere deep inside. He was definitely enjoying the drunken Lucy 'stream of consciousness' vibe she had going—"

Then she turned suddenly to look at him—nose less than an inch from his chin….eyes seeking his. "Are you going to try and get back together with Jessica?"

—or maybe not. "Jeez Luce, non-sequitur much?"

Well, that had solved his below-the-equator dilemma in a hurry.

He waited for her response, or for her to press him with the question again….but there was nothing. He twisted sideways, looking for her face, which was now snuggled into his neck. He couldn't see her eyes….but then a soft snore drifted toward his ear. _She was asleep_.

She shifted then suddenly, slinging an arm across his chest, and sending a long leg swinging up and over his lap, so that she was half-straddling him.

 _Oh….this wasn't good_.

He took her by the shoulders gently. "Lucy?"

Nothing.

"Luce?" he tried again.

"Hmmmm?" she replied….and then there were soft snores again.

He tipped her slowly to the side—trying to extricate himself from under her—guiding her backward and sideways until she was lying across the couch. But now he was parallel to her, practically on top of her….and this sure wasn't any better.

He pressed his hands down on the couch, sitting up. _Time for a new plan_. Leaning over her, he stroked his finger across her cheek. "Lucy? We should call it a night."

She stirred slightly. "Mmmmmm. Not tired."

He smiled. "Come on baby-doll, time for bed."

She surprised him when she responded softly, "I know I should hate that name….but I don't….when you say it."

He gave her a lop-sided grin, even though he knew she couldn't see it, since her eyes had closed again. "I know."

He stood. "Come on, all you're going to do here is throw your back out….it's a lumpy government couch." He leaned over her, scooting his arm under her knees, bringing his other arm around her shoulders, and hefting her up and against his chest. He gently held the back of her head in his hand, then walked toward the bedroom.

He carefully placed her on the bed. He surveyed her clothing—loose sweater and yoga pants—hopefully they were comfortable enough for sleeping. He doubted the bra was comfortable—but there was _no_ way he was dealing with that tonight. He pulled the sheet up over her tiny form. _Well, if he needed any more clarity on his own thoughts….tonight probably had done it_. Though, in the light of day….when the alcohol effects had faded….a tiny voice in his brain still whispered that this visit had only made things worse.

He pulled his eyes—and his thoughts—back to her face, running his finger gently across her cheek. There'd no doubt be time for more thinking later….but he would sleep well tonight...even on that lumpy government couch. He straightened and turned, about to leave the room, when on impulse he turned back to her—taking another look at her peaceful, sleeping face. Without another thought he bent down and kissed the spot that his finger had just traced on her cheek. Straightening again, he moved back toward the door.

"'Night Luce," he whispered, stepping into the hallway, and closing the door behind him.

* * *

 _A/N: Okay, I feel like this chapter needs a public service announcement attached to it, or something. In RL I would not condone drinking to excess as a way of processing thoughts and feelings….but in fan fic, it can make for some really interesting conversations. As I wrote, the more they drank, the better the conversation got—and, before I knew it, I became an author-as-enabler, and began having them pour doubles when a single would have sufficed. *shrug* Oh well! Hope you enjoyed! *Please* use the box, and let me know what you thought!_


	8. Rufus II

_A/N: I'm pretty sure this is called one step forward...two steps back._

* * *

8\. Rufus

Wyatt walked down the drive, then crossed the street, breaking into a light jog as a misting of rain began to fall. He hadn't even been surprised when Rufus had texted him earlier, inviting him to grab a drink with him at a pub local to Wyatt's apartment that the two occasionally found themselves at. Like the entire previous week, his friends seemed reluctant to leave him to his own devices. He shook his head as he ducked under a building overhang to stay dry. Crazy thing was….he didn't even mind.

This morning had been….interesting, he mused, knowing there was a slight smile on his face. He'd woken up reasonably early, feeling pretty decent, and had set to work making pancakes and frying bacon in Lucy's kitchen. She'd emerged from her bedroom just as he had been plating them—looking decidedly less fresh than he felt. It hadn't been lost on him—the comfort level they had….that he would just make her breakfast, even though he doubted she'd be up to eating it….that she would give him a fond smile, and comment that she liked finding him in her kitchen….and then go right back to holding her no-doubt pounding forehead in her hands. _It was like they did this all the time._ After eating, he'd left for the gym—after first wrapping Lucy's breakfast and putting it back in the fridge for whenever she felt like eating, and then getting her a Tylenol and making her some tea.

He'd texted her a couple of times since then to check in on her—late that afternoon she'd even admitted to feeling well enough and being hungry enough that she had re-heating the pancakes. They had been lucky that Emma hadn't decided to go for a spin. It was nice, though unusual for the three of them to get a quiet Saturday to themselves….and besides, he wouldn't wish time jumping with a hangover on anyone, and especially not on Lucy.

He took a right, headed down a steep hill toward the pub, Rufus should already be there. He continued along the sidewalk, ducking under overhangs and awnings to avoid the rain as he was able. What was he supposed to _think_ about last night, anyway? He knew there wasn't much point in denying the fact that Lucy…..awoke things in him. Last night….they were so comfortable together…..and he was happy when he was with her….he could barely remember the last time he'd felt that sense of….contentment. Contentment….except when _other_ thoughts, other more X-rated thoughts, would enter his brain when she was near….and then that wasn't contentment he felt….but something else entirely. Yet, before he'd recklessly raced off to her apartment last night, he'd _told_ himself not to talk to her until he'd cleared up how he was feeling about Jess' return—and there was a _reason_ for that. Lucy deserved better than for him to still have question marks regarding Jessica bouncing around in his head when he was spending time with her. So, he'd told himself that was the best option….and then had been fully unable to take his own advice. He'd reached the old pub, and headed up the stairs to the main door.

He pulled open the door, and squinted into the darkness. He caught Rufus wave at him from the far side of the bar, already nursing a pint, and headed in that direction. The bartender was on him just as he was sitting on the stool beside his friend.

"What can I get you, hon?"

"Nah-Nothing for me, thanks….maybe just a water, for now."

"Whoa…'sa red letter day, here, or what?" Rufus said, feigning shock and clutching at his heart.

He chuckled at him, "Had more than enough last night."

The waitress returned with his water.

"More than enough last night, eh? "Do tell." said Rufus, his eyebrows raised.

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. "I did something that was probably really stupid last night."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad…."

"No—it was….really stupid. I went to Lucy's…..and then we drank _way_ too much."

"Holy shit."

They stared at each other for a beat.

"Exactly what are you trying to say here, Wyatt?"

"I guess….I'm just annoyed with myself….for going there, for letting that happen."

"'Kay, before I completely lose my mind here….you're gonna have to spell it out for me. What exactly happened between you and Lucy last night?"

"What? I told you…." he trailed off, as he noted how far forward Rufus was leaning in, and the shocked expression on his face….and he suddenly realized what Rufus was thinking.

"No, no. Nothing happened….not like _that_. We just….talked. And drank too much…..and eventually Lucy fell asleep on my shoulder."

"And?"

"And what? I put her to bed and crashed on her couch….and made her breakfast this morning."

"Ah…ok." Rufus pushed himself back, sitting straight on the barstool again. "Soooo, can we return to your original statement then, Wyatt? What was the really stupid thing that you did?"

Wyatt scrubbed his hand across his face. "I don't know….everything. All of it. I'm supposed to be figuring things out….figuring out how I feel about my dead wife being alive again, and being my ex-wife….remember? It's supposed to be one problem at a time….and going to Luce's place last night? That just made things more complicated. I'm supposed to be…. I don't know what….but I sure as hell shouldn't have been doing _that_ ….and I _knew_ it, too."

"If you were so convinced it was a bad idea, then why did you go?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time? I mean, I _told_ myself I wouldn't, and then I did….it was just a childish impulse….just being self-indulgent or something."

"Dude, what are you on? If you want to spend time with Lucy, spend time with Lucy. Don't give me this 'I was being self-indulgent' crap."

"No, you don't get it. I have to figure all this stuff with Jessica out….before I complicate things by talking to Lucy….she _deserves_ that. I mean, you _saw_ how I got, in that conference room—"

"Seriously, Wyatt, stop it. Lucy. You like her—"

"So what's that supposed to mean? You like her too."

Rufus rolled his eyes, and leaned forward, to clap his shoulder. "You _like_ her….so spend time with her—outside of work. Besides," he started ticking off his points on his fingers: "You're both adults; I'm pretty damn certain the feeling is mutual; and-I'm sorry man, if this one hurts—but you also happen to both be single."

Wyatt took a large swig of his water, slamming the glass down on the bar with force.

Rufus laughed, "Sorry—but that would have been a whole lot more intimidating if it had actually been whisky, my friend."

They sat in silence for a moment, then Wyatt shook his head. "The problem is….it's bigger than all of that. I mean….what do you think I would have done….if in this timeline Jess and me were still married? Or….what do you think I'll _do_ , if we enter a new timeline where Jess an' me are married, _still_?"

"Seriously, we're on this again?"

He nodded.

Rufus took a sip of his beer. "I dunno….i mean, well, I do know—you would have probably tried to do the right thing….tried to make things work with Jessica….but I don't know how long it would have lasted….not when there are so many….differences between you two now….not with our Time Team work…."

"So you're saying we never would have worked—because of my job?"

"Well…."

"Well what?"

Rufus tilted his head to the side, staring at his pint, and then back up again at Wyatt. "If it was just the job….then maybe you would have made it work, maybe you would have left the mission….I don't know. But you would have had a much bigger problem, my friend."

"What?"

"You know."

"No, I don't."

"Oh, good grief….of course you do."

Wyatt threw his hands up in the air, "Okay, hotshot….enlighten me."

"It's just that, I'm pretty sure you're a one woman kind of guy. I know you well enough to know that when you finally make a decision and give your heart—you give it completely."

He stared at Rufus. "So….?"

"So I don't see how you would have ever made your marriage work….when you've already given your heart to someone else."

"You've lost me, Rufus."

"No….I don't think I did. I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Wyatt stared some more, until Rufus looked away uncomfortably.

"Right. So, not knowing about future timeline shifts that could be coming our way….that's yet another reason why I should distance myself from her, until things are more….clear."

"Would you listen to yourself?" Rufus said, his voice rising for the first time that evening. "I mean _you_ don't even believe you when you say that….that an' it makes absolutely no sense. You don't get to use timeline changing 'what ifs' as excuses—I mean, what would you do if you entered a new timeline where you were a tightrope walker in the circus? You can't let what _might_ happen hold you back….or you'll never move forward….and that's not just advice for time travelling, my friend."

Wyatt scoffed, "What, you get that from a Hallmark card? I know that didn't come from the mind of the guy that took years to ask out Jiya…."

"Hey, I've evolved."

"Have I?"

Rufus nodded, silently, then a grin spread across his face, "Hey, maybe not as much as yours truly….but you have definitely evolved."

They sat in silence for a moment, as Wyatt weighed his options of what to say next….how much to reveal. But—it wasn't as though Rufus didn't already _know_ what was what…..he probably understood better than Wyatt did himself. He took another sip of water, and decided to take a minor leap of faith….in the spirit of evolution:

"You're not wrong, you know."

"What?" Rufus swiveled on the barstool to face him.

"I mean…." Wyatt shrugged. "So maybe I like Lucy."

Rufus' eyes nearly bugged out of his head, and his mouth hung open for a moment. Eventually, he sputtered "But….if you already _know_ that….if you'd already figured that out….then what the hell were you so worked up about, when you came in here, going on about being self-indulgent, and everything else?"

He sighed. "It's like I said….Lucy deserves better then to have me all confused while I'm trying to let her know….how I feel. It's one problem at a time…."

Rufus shook his head. "Do you really think it matters?"

"What?"

"Once you finally sort through your feelings about Jessica….which, by the way, I think you are waay closer to than you think….well, will that affect your feelings for Lucy in any way?"

He took another long drink of water. He shrugged. "I don't know." He turned to face Rufus. "But….it's more than that. It just….seems safer, to not focus on this right now. Besides, none of this is fair….to her."

"You liking her isn't fair to Lucy? That doesn't make any sense."

He shifted uncomfortably on the barstool. He said, more quietly, "So what if I do like her? That should be my problem, not hers."

"Why is it a problem at all?"

"She's got so much going on….her mother—her whole family….her sister...Lucy needs a friend right now, not a complication. I can be a good friend to her, but, if I let myself get all carried away with….those other things….then it won't work."

Rufus blew out a breath. "Have you actually _asked_ her what she needs right now….what she wants right now?"

"No."

"Don't you think you should?"

He didn't reply to that question, instead saying, "Besides, it's not like my track record is very stellar lately."

"Meaning?"

"You were there in the conference room—yelling at her like that, just because I was confused? That's not good."

Rufus nodded, "Well….no. But you said yourself it wasn't your best moment….and that you've apologized, and I imagine she forgave you…..and sometimes…..we do stupid things to the people who are closest to us."

"Okay then, what about the divorce thing?"

"Wyatt…."

"I know, I know….I wasn't even here….but what if it _had_ been me who was here then? Your girlfriend told me, no matter what version of us she's interacting with….we're not different in the important ways. So—by her logic—in the important ways….I'm still the guy that wrecked his marriage…..and Lucy deserves better than that."

Rufus stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked back to Wyatt. "First of all….can we just both acknowledge the fact that you're apparently concerned about wrecking your marriage to Lucy when you're not even dating yet? And second of all….Jiya told me all about that conversation. She said those things because she _wants_ you two to be together….she thinks you're good together….and 'cause I'm pretty sure she's got this week in the office pool again. So, given she said that to encourage you two to be together….she'd be _pissed_ if she knew you were using it to justify the opposite. Please don't make my girlfriend pissed, Wyatt. Somehow she'd decide it was my fault….which, going back to my original point, is stupid, but is just what happens in relationships sometimes—like you yelling things across the conference room. There'd be an awful lot of lonely people in the world if relationships couldn't navigate a few bumps like that along the way….and I think, no, I _know_ that you and Lucy….together….are made of strong enough stuff to get through those types of things."

Wyatt rubbed at the back of his neck and took a drink. Then he stared down at his water, and sighed. "Maybe I _do_ need something stronger."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one that needs the hard stuff tonight, Logan—after trying to talk to you! You admit that there are aspects of being married to Jessica that would suck—hell, you admit to _liking_ Lucy Preston….which is some kind of crazy 'Rufus better check that he's not asleep and dreaming' type of admission….and yet….you still don't seem convinced that you're on the right track. You know, it's not much longer before I start charging you by the hour—you know, 'the doctor is in' and all that." he laughed.

Wyatt just looked at him—and Rufus' laughter quickly faded, with whatever it was he saw in his friend's eyes.

It was Rufus' turn to sigh, and take a drink. They sat in silence for a moment, then Rufus cleared his throat.

Wyatt was shocked by the steel in his voice—the flash of almost anger—in what he said next.

"I have something to say. Through this whole thing—with Jessica coming back—you talk about not being able to get your head on straight, but it's no wonder, Wyatt. You keep swingin' it around behind you, staring at the past….at your past. Since like, the day I first met you. You want your head on straight? Take my advice-try looking ahead of you, just for a bit. You might be amazed by the difference it will make, when you really see what's right in front of you, for a change."

Wyatt just sat there, staring at him. _Was that what he really believed?_ Then he saw Rufus' face change, as his resolve faded.

In a quiet voice, "Look, man, sorry about that. I probably got a little carried away…."

Wyatt waved the apology away, and raised his glass of water to him, in a silent toast. He was about to say….something. He didn't even know what he _should_ say….thank him, yell at him, apologise to him….things were jumbling in his head again. Instead, without another word, he pulled bills out of his wallet, placed them on the bar, to cover Rufus' beer, then got up, and walked out.

He'd made up his mind. He knew what he had to do.


	9. Jessica

9\. Jessica

Wyatt knew what he had to do. The problem wasn't that he had to figure out how he felt about Jessica being alive….the problem was that he had to figure out who _he_ was...without all of the focus on what happened that night in 2012. Because he already knew who that Wyatt was….the Wyatt who couldn't protect the ones he loved because of his temper, his jealousy….his every other bad characteristic you could name. And although there would always be a part of him that would remember that night, remember what he did, how he made his wife feel, and what happened because of that….there was also a part of him that recognized he had changed since then, and he _could_ control the negative emotions better than before….and he was trying his best to protect those he loved, every time they stepped inside the Lifeboat….and so far, was doing a pretty good job of it.

The bigger problem was that, in all that time, ever since 2012, he'd never considered how other aspects of his personality could affect the people around him. It just didn't _matter_ until now. But now there were things he needed to understand—why hadn't his marriage worked? What had he done to make Jess so unhappy that she'd demanded a divorce? Because, although he'd determined that being divorced form Jess wasn't necessarily a bad thing….now...in his current life….he still needed to understand _why_. He owed it to the other people he shared his life with, and he owed it to himself.

And, even though he didn't know or understand what had happened in this timeline, there _was_ someone who did. Someone who would be honest with him….someone who no doubt had a different perspective on things than he did. So, he'd jogged back to his apartment, packed a small bag, climbed into his truck, and started the nine hour drive to San Diego. And if Emma decided to jump? Well then Connor Mason would just have to scramble his personal jet to come pick him up.

He'd arrived in San Diego early the next morning, realizing that he had no idea what part of the city she lived in. But, he had her cell number….at least, he hoped it was still her cell number….it was in the contact information on this timeline Wyatt's cell phone. He'd waited until what he decided was a civil time that morning, then sent a quick text.

*Hi. Find myself in San Diego this morning. Want to grab a coffee somewhere?*

Realizing she might not have the foggiest clue who the number belonged to, he quickly added another text.

*this is Wyatt*

And then he waited.

After about fifteen minutes, there was a response.

*sure, sounds good. Meet me at the Venetian Routes café in an hour*

And there it was. Time to get some answers.

* * *

He approached the café. A long flight of stairs lead up to the old-looking doors, and the front window was full of what appeared to be historic coffee-themed nick-knacks. And also in that window—he saw Jessica. Seated at a table, her back to him. For the first time since he'd jumped in his truck….he started wondering if this wasn't a terrible idea. He sighed. But there was nothing to be done about it now—he was here, she was here….and he needed some answers. He started up the stairs and through the swinging doors.

She turned as soon as he entered, and waved him over.

"Jess." he said, as he slid onto the chair across the table from her.

"Wyatt." she grinned at him. "So serious!"

"What?"

She waved his question away, "Just teasing….you just looked really serious, when you walked in."

"Did I?"

She nodded. "We can wait for the waitress to come around, or just go up to the coffee bar—I was about to just go and do that, to get our drinks. Coffee? Black, right?"

"Um….I guess….I might just get a tea," now that he was starting to sleep like a normal human being again, he'd returned to his newer habit of drinking tea rather than coffee—

"Tea? Wyatt Logan!" she shoved his shoulder playfully, "When did that happen?"

—Though he realized she'd have no possible way of knowing that. "I'll go get the drinks," he said, standing before she could argue, "Two cream, two sugar, right?"

She pursed her lips slightly. "Um….just one sugar would be great."

He smiled warmly at her. "You got it."

He returned to their table a few minutes later, two large steaming glasses in his hands. He settled back into his chair, noting that Jessica had been reading something on her phone.

"This is quite the place," he began, "I didn't know I was going to have to take a history exam to order our drinks."

She laughed, "Yeah….they take the whole 'history of coffee' thing a little far—you can't tell what any of the blends are without asking what the names mean….sorry if it bugs you."

He smiled at that. "Bugged by history? Nah—I kind of like it, actually, it's more interesting than a typical café."

She laughed again, "Still, who wants to have to think when they get their coffee, right?"

He looked around the room, thoughtfully, "I don't know….maybe it's not such a bad thing, at least it gets people thinking and talking about history. If I hadn't had to ask what the 'Gold Rush' blend was, I would never have known that James Folger made his fortune selling coffee to prospectors in San Francisco….I live there, and I didn't even know that."

She tilted her head at him. "Who knew you were a history fan?"

He laughed, "Well…it's important, you know? People have to know about history to understand the present, be prepared for the future….the whole thing."

She smiled again, "Hmmmm. So, this is something that's new in the last three years!"

"What do you mean?"

"When we were married you would have just said that this café was pretentious….and left it at that."

He averted his gaze, pretending to be fascinated by the tools hanging from the ceiling to his right. And yet—this _was_ him now, wasn't it? This was him, and he certainly wasn't ashamed of it. He swiveled around again, meeting her eyes. "Yeah, I guess I'm more interested in history now than I used to be."

She nodded at him. "So—what brings you to San Diego anyway?"

"Uh, work….some people at work."

She nodded again. "So top secret then?"

"Yes, definitely." His phone started to buzz. "Hang on, I gotta check this, could be work." He pulled the phone out of his pocket.

"Or Lucy?" she asked, with a mischievous smile.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and then quickly looked at the screen. "Just a junk ad message…."

"How disappointing," she said.

He rolled his eyes at her, "Come on….what if it was Lucy, what, were you going to ask to talk to her?" he set the phone down on the table.

She shrugged, I just might have! You know that night—your birthday—at that bar? Well, I might have downplayed how long I was watching the two of you."

"Really? Why?"

She laughed. "Because I didn't want to come across as a crazy stalker, maybe? I mean, I noticed you as soon as the three of you came in, but the girls I was with were talking, making it hard for me to get away, and by then I had noticed….well, how you _were_ with Lucy….so I didn't want to interrupt….I thought, 'Hi, I'm the ex-wife,' might have been an unexpected introduction."

He nodded, and shrugged. "It certainly would have been unexpected."

"So, I argued with myself about whether or not to say 'hi' for like the longest time….but then when the other girls said it was time to go….I knew I couldn't give up the chance to talk to you again. I didn't like being completely disconnected from you, like that….especially knowing you were no doubt doing something dangerous, overseas-with your work."

He chewed his lower lip for a moment. "But, I suppose that wasn't that different than when we were married, right? When I was always away….when I couldn't be available to talk when you needed to talk….because of the missions."

She shook her head, "Nope. We're not talking about that stuff Wyatt. Tell me about Lucy."

He shook his own head, with a short laugh. "You do remember when I told you we were just friends, right?"

"I do," she said, "And I don't believe you—come on, tell me just a little about her."

So he shrugged, and he started talking. He told her about how they had met at work, and how she had been hopelessly civilian, out of her depth at first, and then how she had surprised him….surprised him with her tenacity, her brain, her optimism, her strength. And then he told her some more, about the fact that she'd once been in a band, and that she was a certified klutz, and that she was always the one worrying about everyone else in the room….rather than herself.

Jessica sat listening politely, but then she started to smile, and the more he talked, the more she smiled….until she started laughing. "Well, I had to go and ask, didn't I?" she said.

He ducked his head, "Sorry."

"No….it's okay….it's sweet….I like hearing you ramble on about….your friend." She flashed a soft smile at him, and then the lower-half of her face was suddenly hidden from him, behind her coffee mug. So you have these….civilians….on your team? Rufus and Lucy?"

"Yeah—we have different….roles, on the team….I'm supposed to protect them."

"Protect them?" she asked. "From what?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"It's a good team," he said, taking another drink. "I like my work."

She nodded, but then he continued.

"But it's more than just about _liking_ the job—it's like….I'm supposed to protect them….Rufus and Lucy. But, it's even more than that….I's like I'm _meant_ to protect them."

"Meant to," she repeated. She shook her head.

"What?"

She laughed lightly then. "You know," she reached out, placing her hand on his arm. "I feel like I should be asking for your ID! You _have_ changed. Here you are—history-loving, meant-to-be philosophizing, tea drinking Wyatt Logan." She grinned at him. "Who would have thought, eh? Definitely not the Wyatt I knew. I do like the hair though."

"Oh—do you think you're the same Jess _I_ knew?"

"Oh gosh—I hope not. I wasn't very fond of that version of me!"

He sighed, looking around the room again, and taking a drink of his tea. It was nice, just…. _talking_ to her….listening to her laugh. Knowing that she was _alive_ , and living her life... But he needed to turn this conversation back to the past….just for long enough to get his answers. "Jess….I wanted to ask you about…..I wanted you to tell me….again….why you asked for the divorce?"

"What?"

He had apparently taken her by surprise.

"Wyatt, honey, we've barely talked in close to three years…."

"I know, I know. I just….lately I guess, it's just been….bothering me, I want to understand….we were…. _married_."

She looked at him, taking a sip of her coffee, then set the mug down, and crossed her arms. "Wyatt, she began, I am….will always be, your first wife, and I will always love you. But….we were so young then—you know that—and we barely knew anything about life, let alone how to be happy with each other in a marriage, or even what made _us_ happy…."

He shifted uncomfortably, "I know…."

She appraised him some more, fiddling with her coffee mug. "What on earth has brought this on?" Her tone gentled. "I mean, I guess I do that too, sometimes—I remember all the really great stuff between us….and the problems, they seem less important. But I think….I think that's the way memory _works_ , Wy. I mean, who would want to reminisce about all the arguments, or even worse, the times we didn't talk at all….or the times I was freaking out because I didn't know where you were, or wondering if you'd come home again from a mission….I mean….who wants to remember that stuff?"

He nodded in agreement, taking another drink. But apparently, now that he had asked, she had even more to say.

"What I _do_ remember? What I remember Wyatt, is the amazing stuff. The sweet stuff. The way you swept me off my feet, in school. No one had ever made me feel that way before. The way you stood up for me, made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. And then the way you would smile at me…and it gave me this feeling….like we shared this secret, this _understanding._... And, I think it's because we really did, Wy. And I'll love you forever for that." she smiled again, but she still wasn't done.

"You know the thing about you? When you give your heart, it's all the way. You don't know how to do it, otherwise. Which is exactly one of the reasons I fell for you so hard. I was barely out of my teens, and there you were, like some knight in shining armour, pledging your undying love…."

He crossed his arms. "And that's a bad thing?"

She disarmed him with a broad grin. "No, not a bad thing…..a wonderful thing. But Wy, I wasn't ready….I didn't really know what I wanted. And the romance, of being the wife of a Delta Force man? The romance faded….and I was left with the loneliness, the isolation. I couldn't handle it….I wasn't cut out for that type of life. We were both miserable….you _know_ that, you were _there_. So maybe….just maybe….with the divorce I was trying to be _strong_ ….trying to fix the mistakes we had made….to help us both to be happy, in the future. Did you ever think about that?"

"Jess….I….I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. What do you remember, from that time before the divorce? Do you honestly remember rainbows and unicorns?"

Suddenly Wyatt wanted to be anywhere but here….how the hell was he supposed to answer that? What the hell had he been thinking, coming here, talking to her? But she was still staring at him, expecting an answer.

"I….I know we must have both been unhappy….maybe we both were miserable Jess….but I don't remember it….I….I just remember the good stuff. I guess….it's like you said, who wants to remember the rest? But, you're right, when I think about it….I remember the arguments too….and the silent treatments….and all the times I was horribly unfair to you."

She nodded at him, thoughtfully. "All those things…. We can't go back in time Wyatt-we can't change the past. And you know what? Even if we could….I wouldn't want to. All those things between us, the good and the bad, they'll be precious to me forever….but they're not the 'now' me….and, I'm pretty sure they're not the 'now' you, either."

Her choice of words nearly took his breath away. But she was absolutely right….she _wasn't_ his Jess….and he wasn't her Wyatt. And he didn't even know what to do with that information. He considered telling her, right then and there—explain to her that he wasn't that guy; he wasn't the guy who had ignored her, who had made her feel sad, late in their marriage….but to what end? Why would he ever go there? He'd already decided that she wasn't his Jess...that he was _glad_ that they weren't still married….not to mention the fact telling her the whole truth would probably land him in a black site again. No….there was only one reason that thought had even entered his brain….it was ego, pure and simple. He didn't want her thinking badly of him. And yet, it was better—better for her, better for him—hell, it was probably better for the space-time continuum if he _didn't_ tell her about diverging timelines and closed time-like curves….so he would keep quiet.

"Earth to Wyatt!" she sing-songed.

He realized he was lost in his own thoughts—staring out the window. "Sorry," he felt his cheeks colour.

She laughed lightly. "It's okay. But, now that we've got that whole thing sorted….let's talk about something more interesting."

He blinked slowly. "Okay, sure."

"So you told me that you know Lucy through work? Does that mean you can talk about top secret stuff together?"

 _Well that wasn't what he'd been expecting._ "You want to talk more about….Lucy?"

"Well, duh. Of course."

He laughed, and knew his cheeks were still pink. "Look Jess, it's not like that….I told you, we're not a couple."

"Don't BS me Wyatt—you forget I know you….you two are definitely _something_."

"I'm, telling you, we're not in a relationship….not in that way."

"Fine then, this…. _thing_ , this…. conversation, with Lucy? Well what the hell do you guys call it, you must call it _something_?

He sighed. He _knew_ she was setting him up….he just couldn't figure out how to stop it….and crap, hadn't she always been able to do this to him? He knew her well enough to know he wasn't getting out of this one….she'd stick to it, like a dog with a bone, until she had him admitting every private thought he'd ever _had_ about Lucy….busting secret relationships was her superpower….and it was way too early for him to go there, this morning. "We call it….we call it a _possibility_ , you know….when we talk about it."

"Possibility? Well….ummmm, okay….that's….uh…romantic, I guess."

Her crinkled brow immediately made him defensive, and protective of _whatever_ it was that he had with Lucy. "But it _is_ ….I mean….for us." he said, verging on anger. _Whoa….where did that come from?_

She clapped her hands together and grinned. "Well then? There you go? You're neck deep in a great romance….and you're scared shitless about what it all means. Same old Wyatt-you always did seem to need to go 'round and 'round on something before it could finally sink in through that thick skull of yours!" She smiled at him then, and he realized she was teasing...and yet he knew there was also some truth in that.

He was about to ask another question, then he hesitated-torn between just wanting her to stop talking about Lucy already, and wanting her to tell him _more_ about her insights. Because she was right….most of the reason he was here was to learn about that part of himself that had made his relationship with Jess so rocky….so unstable….to try to figure out how to fix, or at least mediate, those worse parts of himself. But to figure that out….he still needed more information. He looked down at his tea.

He felt the change in her demeanor as she registered his change in mood. All teasing was gone from her voice with her next question.

"What is it?"

"Did you….did you ever think I was a hard person to trust?"

"To trust? Where is this coming from?"

"I just….I just want to know."

"Wyatt Logan, you are just about the most trustworthy, loyal guy on the planet."

"I am?"

He watched as she chewed at her lip.

"Is this about those things I said to you? Right before….I left?"

He contemplated telling her—somehow—that he _didn't_ remember those things….maybe that he'd had a head injury, or some crazy illness….

She looked down at her own mug. "I'm sorry about those things I said….I never meant them….not really."

That got his attention. He remembered her as being honest to a fault. "Jess?"

"She shrugged. I'm not proud of it….but, at the time….it was like I needed reasons, you know? I told myself I believed those things….I told myself you were flirting with other girls while on base….because I was angry….and disappointed in what we'd become….and I needed to find a way not to make it my fault."

She surprised him when she giggled then. "I convinced myself there was something going on between you and Tracy when you first got to Pendleton….you talked about Tracy so much…."

"Tracy?"

She nodded, an embarrassed-looking smile crossing her face.

"Sergeant Tracy Apperson?"

She started to giggle, yeah…."

"You know he's a dude, right?"

"I didn't _then_ ….but yeah, I later heard that….through the grapevine….but that's what I mean. I was so bent on finding things to blame you for….that was just where my state of mind was….to make it not my fault."

He rushed to respond then, once again serious. "It wasn't your fault Jess….it was mine."

She shook her head at him. "Wyatt hon….we both made more than our fair share of mistakes back then. It wasn't your fault—it wasn't my fault….we just weren't _working_ together anymore." She took a sip.

"But….I have a horrible temper."

She chuckled, "And I used to target your personal buttons like a heat-seeking missile….doing everything in my power to _make_ you mad."

"Why?"

She looked at him, a hint of regret floating in her blue eyes. "By then—you'd closed up on me….you wouldn't talk about….well you wouldn't talk to me about _anything_ that was important….at least when you were mad….you were talking."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, that that was the only way you could get me to talk. But I couldn't talk about work."

"I know. You didn't talk about your feelings, either."

"Because everything about my feelings was all bound up in my work."

She nodded. "I'm sure it didn't help matters….but there was plenty you could have said, if you'd tried a bit harder."

He nodded, slowly.

"But, don't forget that I was a pretty terrible communicator too. I mean, do you actually remember me ever telling you about something that bothered me?"

He looked up and met her eyes. "No," he said honestly. "Except maybe for when I left the towel on the floor."

She chuckled. "Are you still a slob?"

"I think the Army finally cured me of that."

"Too bad the army isn't so good at helping you to talk about your feelings."

He raised his mug at her in salute.

"You know—when Steve an' me got together….I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't make the same mistakes….that I'd be more open with him about my feelings than I ever was with you."

"And how's that going for you."

She leaned in, a conspiratorial look on her face. "Pretty fantastic, actually. You should try it."

"Me?"

She leaned back again—was she laughing at him behind those eyes?

"Isn't that why you're here?" she asked.

"What?"

"Wyatt," she finished her coffee, "We haven't talked in like….forever, then we accidentally run into each other, and then suddenly you're all like….let's go have a coffee. I know what's going on here….it's pretty obvious."

"It is? I mean….that….that would _really_ surprise me."

"Come on Wy—I'm not blind….and I'm certainly not stupid."

He stared at her.

"You're scared….scared of repeating the same mistakes we made—with Lucy. And," she paused, taking a drink. "I don't' know how much I can really help you with that one. But, I will say, if you're scared about it? Your feelings must be pretty intense. And, to me, intense feelings? That means there's something special there….something you shouldn't be walking away from

He shook his head. "Not _scared_."

"I disagree."

"Well," he said, trailing off.

She sighed, seeming to acquiesce, for a moment. But Wyatt knew her better than that; she was likely just changing tactics.

"So….you want to talk about the lead up to the divorce...the mistakes that we made...because you don't want a repeat of the whole thing with Lucy," she mused, leaning back in her chair. "I can understand that—I get that, I do. But here's the thing Wy," she leaned closer to him again. "Remember that you're not the same _person_ now as you were then. I mean….I'm certainly not the same now as before. I've got a lot more figured out than I did back then. And, the fact that you're even _here_ today….to talk this out….makes me pretty confident that you're getting things figured out too."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I guess….yeah, if Lucy an' me are ever more than friends and colleagues….I want to do things better."

"Just make sure you keep talking—tell her what you're thinking….what you're feeling. She put her hand on his. You're a great guy Wy…..you and Lucy, you'll be okay."

He nodded, slowly….he had just one other question. "Do you think…..we tried hard enough, to make it work I mean?"

She grimaced slightly. "I know you hated it….the idea of divorce…..but it was the right thing. I mean, what did I tell you that night?

"I….I don't know?"

She sighed, "I told you that one day you'd _thank_ me for it-I actually thought that might have been your plan asking to meet me here today, but," she shrugged, "Sometimes things don't go the way we imagine!"

"So we didn't throw in the towel too soon?"

She laughed lightly, "What, if I didn't file when I did? One of us would have filed four months later, or eight months later….we would have just been delaying the inevitable….and spending a whole lot more time miserable. And it doesn't make any sense to _stay_ miserable. Our marriage wasn't healthy—for either of us. And besides which….imagine if we were still married, miserably, when you'd taken whatever assignment you're on now….imagine what that would have been like? I could never be in a marriage where I knew that I was second in your heart."

"Huh?"

"Lucy, dummy. I could never have stayed with you in a marriage, knowing that your first choice was Lucy….and that you were just staying married to me out of some miss-placed sense of duty. And _believe_ me, I know you….and I would have known about your feelings for Lucy. I mean, I knew pretty quick, watching you at that bar….you were pretty….close."

He shook his head slowly, "I get why this is confusing….given the other things we've talked about today," he raised his mug to his mouth, and took another drink. "But I suddenly feel the need to remind you _again_ , that we're not a couple."

"Please tell me there's a 'yet' in there?"

He chuckled. "I don't know if there's a 'yet', but to be honest, maybe there's a 'kinda'?

"What's _kinda_ mean?"

"Well, I told her….not so long ago, that I was ready for….possibilities….which is why we use that term."

Jess leaned closer to him, elbows on the table, chin in her hands, "What she'd say?"

"She asked me to clarify."

"Smart woman."

"Nice." he shook his head at her. "But, she asked possibilities of….what."

"Oohhh….and then you said….?"

"I said I didn't know."

"Seriously? Smooth move Wyatt."

He was truly laughing now. "I know….pretty much a disaster, right? So….yeah…."

"Well, it's certainly not unsalvageable. I mean….okay, the first conversation didn't go so hot….but why haven't you followed up with that?"

He sighed, "She has a lot of….stuff going on right now….tricky family stuff….I think...she just really needs a friend right now….not a complication."

"Have you actually asked her if that's what she needs?"

He ducked his head.

"Don't you think you should? I mean—I think she has the right to decide for herself….don't you?"

He started laughing again.

"Is that funny?"

"No….it's just that, you're the second person to say that to me in less than a day."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah….Rufus, the other guy at the bar that night….he said the same thing to me last night."

"Hmmm. So Rufus is 'pro' you guys being more than possibilities too?"

 _Too?_ "Uh, yeah….I guess he is."

She nodded again. "Well, first of all, I think I like this Rufus….and, second of all—you know what, there is no second of all….you're going to go back north, and fix this with Lucy."

"Is that an order?"

"You bet your ass it is."

He laughed, "Remind me not to get you and Lucy together."

"Are you kidding….that would be fantastic….oh, I have so many good stories to tell her…."

"You wouldn't!"

"Of course I would….and I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess she has some stories to tell, too."

He shrugged, trying to appear serious. "It's….possible."

At the word possible, Jessica shot back the rest of her coffee, and just stared at him….until he couldn't help but laugh again.

Jess laughed too, her big laugh, the one he had so seldom heard in the year leading up to her death, a laugh that seemed to fill the entire café.

"Okay," he said…."I just gotta," he motioned to the washrooms at the back of the café.

"That's what you get for drinking tea, Wyatt."

He smiled, "I'll be right back."

* * *

He returned to the table—to see Jess holding his phone. "You snoopin' there?"" he asked, giving her a light chuckle, to let her know that he didn't mind.

"Well, it buzzed….more junk ads, but then I just thought….yeah, maybe I was snoopin'. It's what you get for using the same password for like ten years."

He shrugged, "Nothin' to hide….at least not on that phone."

She smiled. "To be honest, I was looking at your photos of Lucy….and of Rufus….and of other people I didn't recognize, but who seem to enjoy your company."

He laughed, "Imagine that."

She nodded. "You know what? You have changed, Wyatt….and I think you're a better person, because of it. And I _know_ I've changed, and that I'm a better person for it. I love Steve, and I love my life. And that's a good thing. You….you lo—"

He looked at her, suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes. "You have _strong feelings_ for Lucy. And you love your life—I can tell, just by the way you talk about your work. And that's a good thing, too. "I'm really glad you came, Wy. I mean it. I can't even remember the last time we laughed like this—hell, I can't remember the last time I saw you smile like that."

"Smile like what?"

"Like you do when you talk about Lucy."

He shook his head, "Jess…."

She waved her hand, "Just friends, yeah, sure, whatever." She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, "But, I mean it. Just keep doing whatever it is that you're doing—happiness looks good on you. And you want to know how you can really honour our marriage? Learn from it—like I did—make your new relationship better because of it. I mean….we'll always love each other Wy—but it's a different type of love, and I think you know that. I think that's why you're here."

"So….this may shock you….but I think you might be right."

She smiled softly then. "Okay—topic change."

"Huh."

"I brought something for you…..something I should have given you a long time ago….but," she shrugged, "You know." She reached across the table, something small in her hand, wrapped in a scarf.

He reached out to accept it, and moved back the material, to reveal a pocket watch.

He was stunned. "My Grandfather's watch. Where, where did you get this?"

"It was in a box, with some of my Mom's jewelry—I didn't take it on purpose, or anything—but you must have put it in that box at some point, when we were together….you never really looked at it or anything, so you probably forgot. By the time I found it, after the divorce, you were overseas. I'd planned to just hang on to it—until I saw you next….but then it was so long before we saw each other…. Well, I'm glad I can give it back to you now."

She stood, 'kay—I gotta get back to the store."

He stood as well. She looked at him.

"It was really good seeing you."

He nodded. "You too."

"Take care of yourself, Wyatt, and….stay safe….doing whatever it is you're doing to save the world these days. I sleep better, knowing you're out there protecting us, you know?

He nodded. Thanks Jess….thanks for the watch, thanks for….everything.

Don't be a stranger, 'kay? She leaned in and gave him a small hug, a quick light clasp about the shoulders.

He nodded, then returned the hug-a sense of redemption, of _rightness_ filling his chest.

"Come say hi, if you find yourself in San Francisco."

She smiled, waved, and walked out the doors of the café.

* * *

 _A/N -A reminder again that most of this was written long before Season 2 ever started! The Jessica in this story seems to be in a much better place than the Jess on the show-though they are three years post-divorce in this story...so I guess that makes sense! As always, Thanks so much for reading and reviewng-though, in lieu of a review to this chapter, I'd *love* it if instead you took the time to fill out the Save Our Shows poll, or even send NBC an email directly-anything we can do to help keep this going!_


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